


Doing the right thing

by SunBathingDragon



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angel wings are weapons, Cain has his own agenda, Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Forced Prostitution, Get up and fight for your girl, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lucifer the eternal teenager, Maze is a fierce protector, Other, Proud teacher Maze, Sweet Devil, The Devil is sulking, Trixie is more than just a cutie, Wing Reveal, beware demon violence, growing up is painful for most of us, post episode S03 e10, roller blade training, untamed Devil-Demon action
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-02-24 03:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13204392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunBathingDragon/pseuds/SunBathingDragon
Summary: Trixie is struggling with the pain of growing up, and with the thread of her soon-to-be step-dad Marcus. When she and her best friend get themselves into trouble, she has to turn to Maze and Lucifer for help. Devil reveal alternative story, Marcus/Cain is clearly the villain and Deckerstar is endgame, ok?





	1. Shards of the childhood crystal palace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wollfgang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollfgang/gifts).



> I found that Trixie often gets shoved away into the "cutie-pixie" department, is permanently stuffed with choclate cake or she is explained away (to leave with Dan, Maze, Ella or whomever) whenever she gets into the way of the storyline. So I made her a bit older (Scarlet Esteverez is 10 by now!), took her side and gave her her own storyline with our favorite Devil, aiming at an alternate final Devil reveal to "The Detective". Seems like Beatrice develops a life of her own, kid's fierce! I hope you enjoy the new take. Please let me know - kudos and comments make my day. 
> 
> All mistakes go to this old, rusty dragon lady who just borrowed the characters for writing practice in a non-native language. Not beta-ed.

She was running for her life, her lungs stinging, her breath hitching in her chest. Her small feet drummed the pavement, the force of her panic drove her forward. Beatrice tried to listen backwards to the men chasing after her over the noise of her pounding head and thumping feet. To the men who had snatched her best friend Zoé a minute ago! She still felt the force of the blow she had witnessed when that bulky square guy in a leather jacket had grabbed Zoé and shaken her like an old rug, shouting, backhanding her like she was an adult match for him, and not a 12-year old kid. Her beautiful, strong and loyal friend! Who had mentored and protected her from day one at the new school. How did they both end up in this nightmare? All had started out as a good plan to secure the medical treatment of Zoé's mum!

She heard a man’s panting come closer, fear washing over her. How many chased after her, just one man, or more? Who? Square guy, or sleazeball standing nearby, grinning, when Zoe was caught and maltreated? Or the third man, the one with the snickering laugh, who stood in the dark, or all of them? Beatrice did not dare turn her head to keep her speed. She needed to hide, to vanish, to evaporate into thin air! Zoe’s screams still echoed in her ears.

Trixie shivered in horror, as the scene she had witnessed replayed in her oxygen-deprived mind: She, hiding behind the stacks of goods in the warehouse and Zoé in the front. Leading their way, to deliver the package that had to be delivered, for receiving the money it was worth. Zoé, hitting her head on a protruding metal something, hissing and uttering a little moaning noise. How the lights had suddenly flashed, blinding them. And how Zoé, the package in her arms, had suddenly stood still as a stature, exposed in the light, surrounded by three snickering adult and surely criminal men, for the look of them! Trixie had ducked behind the corner out of sight just by instinct, torn between helping Zoé and staying put, to keep the one and only chance for getting help. Zoé had known that, Trixie guessed, or she had wanted to protect her younger friend. When grabbed, Zoé had denied that anyone was with her, insisted that she had been alone, even when they hit her and her screams echoed around the large warehouse. Zoé had shouted, even in that desperate situation, that if she had had an accomplice, they one would surely be on their way to get help by now! Which made Zoé’s intention for Trixie to get the hell out of here painfully clear. Trixie had gotten the message straight and retracted backwards, she was not the daughter of two skilled cops (and a friend to a bounty-hunter-demon-whatever) for nothing! Silently, with a racing heart she had nearly reached the dark exit when she messed up and sent an old tin can tumbling down. Which had set her persecutors hot on her heels while Zoé’s screams and a horrible rhythmic smacking noise died behind her as she gained distance.

The nightmarish mess they had gotten themselves into was much more than a nearly-11 and 12-year old could handle. How could she now call the cops? Now, when she and Zoe had tried to smuggle a package full of drugs into this old warehouse? Trixie’s heart ached at the thought of the tremendously disappointed look on her mothers’ face when she found her daughter – _her own daughter!_ – guilty of criminal deeds, for whatever noble original reason. Trixie could almost depict her mothers’ new boyfriends’ sneer when Marcus would repeat to her mother what he had often said: That kids need a hard hand to be raised and taught to tell right from wrong! That she, Chloe Decker, was always much too soft and trusting towards her daughter, that Trixie would surely betray that trust some time soon. Trixie hated how she would now prove him to be right.

Trixie’s heart ached with the wave of guilt and physical stain. Blood rushed in hear ears as she dashed down the empty dark lane. “Stop, little stinkin’ rat! You regret it when we catch you! And your nigger friend will pay if you don’t stop!” her hunter roared. She guessed that it was Sleazeball. Two options blinked up in her shivering brain: _Hiding!_ Only - no shelter anywhere. _Run, run, get back to the main road!_ There, on the main road, were lights, shops, cars... there were people, normal, non-criminal, friendly people – bad men feared the light and friendly people, right? _Right?_ Giving in to his bait, let herself be caught to save Zoé was not an option, never! Trixie knew by instinct that Zoé’s last hope for rescue would be gone the moment she got caught. She owed this to her friends’ desperate attempt to buy her an out!

“Stop, stinkin’ rat! Stop! I’ll get you!” her persecutor gained on her, Trixie could already feel his panting in her neck. There, some bins standing in her way! Trixie’s roller blader training plus derby racing payed off, her body moving on its own: She jumped, flew over the bins in a perfect arch, kicked backwards and rolled head over heels over the pavement with the momentum without feeling any pain. And up she was, running on. The clattering told her she’d made a hit as Sleazeball’s yelling confirmed his slowdown. Her derby name flashed through her mind: _LuciaFirebolt : bad guy 1:0!_ Without turning around Trixie dashed on, panting, coughing, towards the lights, towards safety. Fifty meters still to go, _thirty, ten._..! The sounds of the main road came closer - the panting and sputtering behind her also did. Her lungs nearly burst when she dashed around the corner onto the main road, taking in the scenery and her options with panic-sharpened senses. Miraculously, she found her way around and in-between passer-by Christmas shoppers loaded with bags, as if her path was scribbled down on the pavement. Trixie gained ground on Sleazeball who lost time by rudely pushing people out of his way. A red-and-gold decorated shop straight ahead to her right swam into her blurred view. _She knew that shop, she had visited it before!_   Without a second thought, she wrenched the door open and flung herself inside.

The little doorbell dragon dinged like mad. The old Asian shop owner with the grey beard and hooded eyes slowly lifted his head from sorting the colourful Chinese (well, Hong Kong-made) molten-glass writing pens. When he slowly peered down, he noticed the dark-haired girl on the floor, panting, scrambling to her knees to get up again. He sighed. This meant trouble, he could tell. “Help me, please, help” the girl chocked, nearly vomiting with her panic. “He’s not m’guardian, regardless whats he says!! He’s a crim...” she spat out in a rush. The old man eyed her like an owl who just started to take in the situation. The doorbells shook angrily for a second time. The door was ripped open again and a lean, greasy dark-haired man entered, panting, peering around. He spotted the girl on the floor in an instant and his features broke into a satisfied smirk. Beatrice crawled backwards until her back hit the shop’s counter. She noticed with grim satisfaction that her enemy had a fat colouring lump on his forehead and that his left forearm was scratched. “There y’are little rat, finally got you!” his leering grin bared yellowish horse teeth. He took a step forward. “Ya’know, kids these days!” Sleezeball drawled and flickered his gaze lazily to the old man who watched the scenery, waving his hand in a throwaway gesture, “Need to be taught manners, them, don’t they? Most of all this one! Little bitch!” He grinned at his prey. “I’ll rid you of her, she’ll be properly punished!” The old man blinked, slow, owlishly, and remained silent. Trixie’s heart sank. Her chances, and therefore Zoe’s, were running out. It had been a deadly mistake to seek shelter here. _Game over!_

The old man, Mr. Wong, Trixie remembered, had seemed so friendly the other day when Trixie had bought a present here. In another life, ages – no, three days – ago, when she finally had decided for Chloe’s Christmas present, and had pestered Maze until they went into the shop to buy it. Maze and Mr Wong had gotten on so well, with Mr. Wong respectfully addressing Maze in Chinese and giving a funny bow. But of course, Mr. Wong was a merchant. Being friendly to customers was part of his business. What had she expect, stupid kid she was? Trixie felt lost, helpless, betrayed. Her secret, heart-felt kid belief that someone, _something_ must come to the aid of the helpless clashed with the harsh reality. A fleeting thought crossed her mind, her lips moved silently. “Lucifer, Maze, if you can hear me.... please, I’m in so much trouble.... help me. It’s me, Trixie. _Please_!”

Of course no kind of superhero came to her rescue! What did she think, stupid children’s’ dreams she’d made up ages ago? When she used to believe Lucifer that he was the Devil, when she had drawn pictures of Lucifer with angel wings. When she had still hoped against hope that Lucifer and her mother would get together. So that Trixie would have had to put up with Marcus Pierce every other day. But this was what reality was now! She better readied herself.

Sleazeball dashed forward and grabbed for her hair. Trixie whirled away instantly, a strand of her hair remaining in his fingers. Her eyes darted around the room like the cornered bird she was. She scanned the nearby goods on display. Again, her reflexes were fast, instinctively, Maze-and-Derby-trained: She grabbed the chiselled silver paper knife and plunged it forward into the man’s right groping hand. He howled and jumped backwards, clutching his bleeding hand. “No, you didn’t just...” he gaped at her, mouth hanging open, “Lil’ rat has sharp teeth!” Trixie drew herself up and lifted her chin. _LuciaFirebolt – Sleazeball 2:0._ For one glorious second! She took a fighting position, as Maze had taught her. Trixie knew perfectly well that she did not stand the slightest chance against a grown adult. But she would not go without a fight! At least the police or Maze should find enough evidence for the mayhem she intended cause when they went to find out what had happened to her...

Bad guy shifted his weight to his other foot, unsure how to overwhelm her without being stung again. Then he lunged forward, using his height to his advantage, clawing for her right knife hand. Trixie had flung the knife into her left hand a split second before his fingers scratched her right wrist, to remain in the possession of her only weapon. Simultaneously she had curled herself into a ball and plunged forward against him, ducking to the floor. Sleazeball tripped over her with his momentum, hitting her ribs in a cracking blow with his right foot. Trixie gasped for air with the sharp pain. But it was worth it: Sleazeball crashed to the floor again, cursing, spluttering, struggling to get up. She jumped to her feet, panting, holding her bruised rib cage, her defence weapon still ready and pointing at her enemy. But her strength slowly waned, she was simply worn out. Trixie moved backwards, counter now to her right, her dark eyes fixed on her attacker. Her gaze flicked briefly to Mr Wong, who eyed her curiously as if she were a novel species he needed to study and understand. Then, as if something important was confirmed, he nodded to himself, reached under the counter in slow motion and drew a gun. Trixie’s mouth fell open (and so did Sleazeball’s) when he, with his owlish demeanour, raised the gun and pointed it directly at Sleazeball. There was a click as Mr. Wong unlocked the gun.

The criminal froze, yellow teeth bared in a funny grimace. “I kindly ask you to leave my shop and let the young lady be.” Mr Wong’s voice was surprisingly deep and resonant, in an accent that sounded vaguely familiar to Trixie. “I assure you that Madame Li, whose Alhambra Tirade Family kindly protects this little unworthy store of crafted goods, will not be amused that Louie Manchinetti’s gang men chase after a protégé of the famous _Great Dragon_!” Wong peered down his nose and raised one eyebrow questioningly at Trixie, which sent her mind in racing overdrive. Suddenly it clicked. “Yes, um, err, the Great Dragon teaches me how to handle knives!” Trixie confirmed, hating it that her voice sounded so small and shaken, not strong and cool like Maze’s. “All kinds of knives. _Every day_!” she nodded with a slightly more steady voice. Sleazeball glared at them both, uncertain what to do. He bared his teeth. “We have your little friend and she will pay for you at her auction, rat!” Sleazeball spat at Trixie and smirked. “She’s delicious, she’ll bring a good price!” Trixie did not understand the implications but her guts did. She shuddered when the memory of Zoé’s helpless screams flooded her brain.

“I strongly suggest that you reconsider your plans,” Wong addressed the man politely in his deep rumbling voice. “The Great Dragon is hell-forged and abides by a higher Lord. As rumour has it, the Dragon has even beaten and humiliated Kang, the Tirade’s best fighter. Tell Louie, with the Alhambra’s Families’ best regards, that no protégé of the Great Dragon and her Lord will be harmed on our watch.” After a short pause, he added, “If you would, now, kindly take your leave.” When Sleazeball did not move an inch, gaping at him as if to find out how to overcome him, Mr Wong slowly lifted the gun to Sleazeballs head. He blinked owlishly and pulled the trigger without hesitation. The shot rang. Sleazeball howled in pain, clutched his bleeding left earlobe, spun around and was gone in an outburst of tingling dragon doorbells.

Trixie stared at the doorframe, shaking from head to toe. She could not believe that she had, against all odds, escaped! Mr Wang sighed in the background. “I hate it to peel bullets out of my doorframe,” he muttered under his breath, seemingly unhappy with the situation. Then he turned around, knelt next to Trixie who suddenly noticed that she had dropped to her knees onto the floor, arms and legs shaking and wondering how she got there. His old, wise eyes scanned the figure of the no-longer little girl. “Well fought, young lady, you have it in you. A worthy protégé of the Great Dragon!” Wong praised her. It was all he could give her to help her pull her heart and soul together after the ordeal. He sensed that the girl had irrevocably stepped onto the pathway that leaves the land of childhood behind. In a distant place in the girls’ heart, he could hear crumbling princess towers make little crystal clinging sounds.

Wong got up from the floor with a sight about “old bones” and gestured for her to stand up. “I took the liberty to call the Great Dragon before I requested Louie’s man to leave”, he told Trixie. “She promised to be here in about 10 minutes.” Trixie sighed in relief, and nodded, exhausted, grateful. For a brief moment, she felt the overwhelming urge to hug Mr. Wong like she used to hug Lucifer. Ages ago. In a different life. But she was not a little girl any longer, she never would be. “Thank you”, Trixie mumbled instead. Mr Wong bent down behind the counter and came up with a coke, which he handed to her. “I mean, for everything! The coke, the knive which I ruined...” she gazed at her hand “...and the bullet!” she grinned mischievously for a second, but the light in her features faltered too soon. “I – I appreciate your help”, she said more formally, bowing her head to channel her gratitude into a respectful, heartfelt gesture. She had never understood such gestures until now: He could have easily decided to act otherwise and let her have dragged out of his shop. No Disney-movie-force had made him protect her. It was simplyhis decision. All your actions come at a cost, she realized...

Mr Wong looked down at the little brown-haired head. “Girl, you seem to have gotten yourself into some real trouble,” he murmured. It was not a question. She looked up and he recognized the desperation in her eyes. “Yes I have”, she whispered and looked down on her dirty hands. A little bit of Sleazeballs blood stuck on them, which suddenly caused her nausea. The knife clattered from her hands. Tears finally started to form, a springing tide with the waning adrenaline.

“Do you want my advice?” he asked, kindly, and waited until she could control her hitching breath. She nodded to her hands, still sniffling. “First things first: Take a sip of your coke” he instructed, suddently smiling bright and warm like Santa Claus. “You depleted all your reserves in your fight. Water. Sugar. You know, the Great dragon will _bite_ us if we do not care for you properly, won’t she?” Trixie could not help but smile a little. Obediently broke the seal and took little sips. It helped combat the nausea, surprisingly. Wong continued. “Second: You do require assistance. That much I get, when you want to go up against the Manchinelli cartel” he held up his hand, to stop her when Trixie took a deep breath to start her story. “...the police?” he suggested, raising an eyebrow. Trixie’s mouth snapped shut. Desperation crept back into her and shone through her saddening brown eyes. She sighed and shook her head. No! She did not want her mother to find out what they had done, just to be seconded by her awful-lawful new boyfriend, probably soon-to-be step dad, Marcus! Wong nodded as if his suspicions were confirmed. “Mmhm, so there’s that. Strong assistance is required then, stronger than mine, obviously.” He paused, briefly. “If you are familiar with Mazikeen the Dragon...” “She’s my friend,” Trixie murmured under her breath, “...if you are even _friends_ with her, than you will know her former Lo.., ah, superior.” “You mean, Lucifer Morningstar?” Trixie’s head shot up. Suddenly she felt hope without knowing why. Something clicked into place. “You have the same accent he has”, she stated, eying Mr Wong. “Do you know him? Did you come, ah, from the same place? London...?” She quipped. Mr Wong nodded. “Indeed I do come from the same place, in a mannerof speaking. I used to work for him. He is a special... boss, demands loyalty but is fair and generous. Well-connected. I... owe him... a lot.” Wong stated, suddenly solemn, his gaze in the distant past. His tone was utterly respectful, even fearful when he spoke of Lucifer, more so than when he spoke of the “Great Dragon”, Maze.

Trixie was unsure if Mr Wong really meant the same Lucifer she knew: The Lucifer who had played Monopoly with them and let her paint his face; who had promised her (and secretly given her already the very first) driving lessons in his Corvette; who helped her raid her mothers’ cookie stocks and who came up with the very best puppy-dog-eyes look she’d ever seen when they were both caught by mum; who always squirmed so funnily when she hugged him that she had made a game out of it, just to see him wince with her hugs, even when she would normally not do that any longer. Because she was long since too grown up to do spontaneous hugs. A thing he never seemed to notice nor understand, to her utter amusement. But over the last few months everything had changed. Lucifer seldom worked with her mother these days. He had stopped his leisure time visits after Chloe went out with Marcus for the first time. If she was honest with herself, Lucifer had vanished from her, Trixie’s, life, and she truly missed him - every day.

“So this is my third piece advice”, Wong continued. “You will have to go to his homestead, a night club called Lux,” “I know his penthouse, it’s so beautiful...” she murmured. Wong’s eyebrows went up in surprise “...and you will have to make a _deal with the Devil_ to get your friend back from the mob, unharmed.” Mr Wong sighed. “...if there is a chance for unharmed, that is.” Trixie’s heart dropped at this, when the pictures of Zoé dangling from the arm of that square guy flooded back into her mind. “The devil values his deals, always. He may be your only chance,” Wong added. She held her saviours’ gaze, mouth slightly open in surprise, her dark brown eyes scanning his old ones. He did neither blink nor wink. There was not a trace of doubt in her saviours’ mind that Lucifer, her mum’s funny and annoying partner, was the Devil himself. Mr Wong had worked for him... he should know the truth, should he? This was confusing!

Suddenly the door was ripped open. The maltreated jingling doorbells finally surrendered and crashed to the floor. Maze stood in the doorframe, whirling her claw-like knives with deadly ease, snarling. “ _Where will I find the scumbags that dared to take her_ ”?


	2. Favour revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maze notes that human chilren grow up and change (while souls in Hell did not). Trixie needs to make a deal with the devil. It has surprising consequences for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, here you go! In my headcanon, Maze drives one of the not-yet available super-accelerating Tesla roadster sports cars (in a burning red of course, goes in 2,1 secs from 0 to 100 km/h). I think "fast and silent" fits her fighting personality ;) !

“Maze”, Trixie asked. “Maze?” She still clutched her coke, only a few sips missing. Maze was driving her fire-red brand-new Tesla roadster. She had gotten the exceptional sports car with the dream acceleration because Lucifer had lost a bet to her. Its deadly silent speed fitted her personality perfectly. Maze drove fast (she always did), to get Trixie back home safely and then be able to come back and flay the culprits. Trixie sat beside her in the front passenger seat. Usually she would perform a dance of joy when she would be allowed to drive with Maze. She was so proud of being now allowed to use the passenger seat, because she had grown so much the recent months. Yet, she had no sense for her privilege. Her head leaned against the window, her mind dizzy with exhaustion and sorrow for Zoé.

When Maze had entered the shop, Trixie had finally given in to her hugging desire and clung to Maze as if her live depended on it for a few seconds. If she was honest to herself, it did, because her life would be over if Zoé was not rescued! It was her fault, she was sure of that! There was a quick information exchange between Mr Wong and Maze, who also received a lot of praise for her well-trained pupil. Which Maze had taken in with grim satisfaction and an oddly proud expression.

Both had fallen silent in the car. Maze had eyed Trixie curiously from the side. Her little human was somehow changed and older, radiating sadness and a strange fear – one that was not for herself. Maze inhaled softly and tasted the difference with her sharp demon senses.

Maze knew that, theoretically, humans develop, grew older and that they could really _change_ their ways. Souls in hell were, for the lack of a better description, frozen in time and did not evolve nor change. There had been sometimes a few special souls. Lucifer had usually taken care of them, mostly those where souls were the destination “hell” seemed questionable from the start; most of those undestined souls who showed up in Hell, utterly confused, had been quite young when they had died. Maze recalled how she often had his back when Lucifer smuggled those souls out of Hell, so that the demon army did not get the impression that he was growing weak. Lucifer had handed them usually over to his sister Azrael, who had obliterated their memory and send them back into the re-birth cycle.

To witness this unfamiliar growing-up evolution in Trixie, the first little human she had grown fond of (“Demon exception!”) was compellingly new to Maze. Was this the same little one who had not long ago smuggled herself into her travelling bag? Lending her Miss Alien? Ever since Trixie went to the new school she seemed grow up faster than one could keep track, Maze mused.

She had witnessed Trixie’s joy when she had become friends with her assigned mentor, Zoé, one class above Trixie. A girl that even resembled Maze a bit in her beauty, but not in character. Zoé possessed a graceful patience and a radiant smile, which mostly shone from her clear dark eyes. She did not smile very often, but when she did the sun was shining. She behaved towards Trixie like an older loving sibling would to her over-excited younger sister. And that was what the girls had become, over the months: kind of twin sisters. They both adored Maze, who occasionally gave in to their begging and trained both together in unarmed combat (and with the knives, when Chloe was not looking). Not that Maze would admit it, but when the girls gave a round-eyed “cooool!!” at her bounty hunter stories, she felt a warm glow inside her chest like she was the third, older (demon) sister. Trixie had even made macramé bracelets for all of them, with a little silver clover trinket that she and Zoé had chosen as the symbol of their friendship. Lately the girls had mostly been at Zoé’s home, since her mother Ylva was at home more often than Chloe, whenever she had a pause in her cancer treatment. Ylva always insisted that the girls were no burden at all, but rather the joy of her life that helped her see the light at the end of her personal dark tunnel. So, Chloe gladly took Zoé for sleepovers to distract the girl from her sorrow for her mother when she had to go to the hospital for the next round of her treatment.

Maze gazed sideways as she overtook a “snail mail” transporter like a red bolt of lightning. Trixie’s body language indicated complete exhaustion. Her eyes were closed, traces of tears were still visible in her face, her skin was bruised and scratched in places. Maze could smell the blood of a stranger on her hands, which made Maze oddly proud. She would go for the scumbags later and skin them alive! The dragon claw knives glowed in her leather pant pockets like little comforting suns. “Sleep a little, Trix, I’ll drive you home and then I’ll go and slice their asses...” Maze growled.

Trixie jerked awake from her half-dozing state. She turned to Maze. “No, Maze, no!” She could not give in to her exhaustion when Zoé was in the fangs of those gang men! “What?” “They have Zoé, hold her captive, these men, back in the warehouse...!” “WHAT? Are you serious? The MANCHINELLI trafficking ring captured Zoé!?” Maze swayed the Tesla briefly into the opposite lane and back in surprise. Then she bared her teeth and waved her middle finger in a rude gesture towards her honking, angry-looking opponent in a black Mercedes. Her jaw tightened, a vain on her left temple started pulsing. Her high-alert tone sent shivers down along Trixie’s spine: it confirmed that her gut-felt desperation was absolutely justified.

“What happened?” the Demon inquired, peering to the passenger seat. Trixie’s eyes closed in misery. A tear welled up and slid down her cheek. She gulped and took one shivering breath. “What will they do to her, Maze...?” she asked in a small voice. “Can you free her? CAN YOU..?” she whispered, panic in her voice. “We did something completely stupid, Zoé and me. We are criminals now, you know... Mum will be so disappointed, and Marcus....” Trixie’s breath hitched. Maze snorted at the mentioning of Pierce. “Who gives a shit to what Pierce thinks?” she glowered. “Zoé is in the fangs of these... men. _And I don’t know what they’ll do to her just now!_ ” the last sentence was pushed out in such despair that it touched the demon’s heart.

Mazikeen knew what the Manchinelli gang was famous for: Trafficking women, particularly young girls and even children into forced prostitution and sex slavery. This particularly vicious human trafficking gang put up auctions on the darknet for particularly valuable, virgin catches, and Maze knew that Trixie’s beloved friend, with her nearly amber-glowing brown skin, her glossy braided hair and long runner legs, who was just on the brick of puberty with her nearly 13 years would certainly qualify for the latter. Even if they would have gone back to the warehouse (and with Trixie in tow, that was not an option!), the men would have certainly be gone with their human prey. The trafficking ring was perfectly organized, fuelled by tons of money that only sex or drugs could make.

“Hold on tight!” Maze hit the accelerator and the roadster shot forward faster, like a tiger darting for its prey. She got it. Every second counted now. She would need Lucifer’s assistance, without question. He needed to call in favours, even use his Devil nimbus, so that they might stand a chance to prevent the worst.... damage to Zoé. She and Lucifer would need to fight united, like in the old days. Chloe and the police would be no help, regardless if Trixie’s sense of guilt was justified or not. They were just not fast enough, by the time they would be ready to nail down the gang fool-proof in a way to hold up in court it would be too late for Zoé. A grim smile split Maze’s features. The former commander of the Lilim army forged a plan.

“We are going to Lux,” she decided, taking a sharp turn to the right, nearly ripping the pants off a slow moped driver as she overtook him with not much space. “You have to give a SHORT but PRECISE report to me and Lucifer of what you two did, and how you got yourselves in trouble!” Trixie sat up straighter in her passenger seat and nodded, her dark eyes on Maze. The Great Dragon, she remembered. Maze’s commandment tone was surprisingly reassuring. Her red sports car cut through the traffic like her knives cut through flesh. “We will need Lucifer on board if we want to get our girl back. UNDERSTOOD?“ “YesSir, ah, Maze!” “We need Lucifers connections on top of mine, particularly those to the Chinese Alhambra Triads. They use the same money laundering pathways like the Manchinelli trafficking ring, but the Chinese do not sell kids into s... service. They deal mostly with antiquities and with some drugs. Madame Li’s organization despises the Manchinelli gang. Which we may use to our advantage,” Maze formed her plans on the fly. “If nothing else helps, we will need Lucifer’s money...” ...and Lucifer would probably be forced to bid at a darknet auction for Zoé, Maze added silently in her thoughts. That would be their last resort, plan B or C, if everything else failed

“Whatever you two kids did: The whole set-up was likely a trap, Trix.” Maze did not know details yet – but _that_ would fit the fishing pattern the Manchinelli trafficking ring that was used on young girls. Maze cut around a large SUV whose driver honked and surely mouthed curses at them as she cut his right of way with screeching tyres. They were almost there.

Maze pulled her car up in the parking lot under Lux and just jumped out like a cheetah. Trixie shut the cars’ door with a pang and both dashed to the elevator. She swallowed. “Maze...?” her voice was small and vulnerable as they travelled upwards. “Mmh?” “Is Lucifer _really_ the Devil? I mean, really really...?” Trixie inquired, her dark brown eyes fixed on Maze, begging for the truth. Never before had she asked directly. Maze sighed and considered her answer. Trixie had been more accepting and sensitive towards their true demonic respective celestial natures than her mother. Maze was unsure how much of that belonged to her being a “small human” (a species revelling in Disney movies that seemed to have an exceptional high density of princesses) or if she was really different to other kids (or parents) when it came to sensing the Devine. After all, Maze just started to collect small-human experiences and she prided herself in having much more by now than the Devil.

Things would be easier in their upcoming fight if Trixie was in the know, Maze thought. Plus, Maze was immensely _pissed_ and _fed up_ with Lucifer sulking in the corner and not fighting for his own bloody happiness! Just because Chloe had finally shoved her free will into his face (without knowing she did.) By dating Pierce who had wormed his way into the detective’s life, and maybe a bit already into her heart. By being reliable, steady, without surprises, by being there for her. Well, whatever Cain’s agenda was, he was damn good at “being therefor her”, particularly when Lucifer was not, Maze mused. He even created these situations, she was sure of it! If only Lucifer would listen to her! Maze sighed and made up her mind.

As they drove up she knelt down in the elevator to look directly into Trixie’s eyes. Wow, had the girl grown! She was now taller. Maze even had to peer upwards! “Yes, little one. Lucifer Morningstar is the Devil, aka Satan. Or rather he was.” Maze’s gaze held Trixie’s to transport that she was serious. “Retired Lord of Hell and all of that. Currently without his Devil face, though, and stuck with a pair of brand-new angel wings he despises and refuses to use. Still, the same silly, impulsive, stupid Lucifer you have known all along. The one who steals your cookies if you don’t look.” Trixie’s eyes went wide. “....and who promised to give me driving lessons..., “ she added. “Yes, exactly, the very same,” Maze smiled fondly at her little (well not so little any more) friend when she got up again.

The elevator dinged, they had arrived in Lucifer’s penthouse. A quick glance confirmed that Lucifer was not there. Since Maze sensed his closeness, she deduced that he must be partying in the club below. She would go down and get him, asap, and if she had to drag his ass up and glue him to the spot to make him _listen_. But before this, she had to deliver the final confirmation of her words to Trixie. She completely trusted in the mental strength and courage of Beatrice Decker. She would understand and stay. “Remember when we went trick or treating, it was, what, two or three years ago...?“ Maze implored, her sliced eyebrow went up questioningly. She saw how the truth dawned on her young friend.

“Not afraid of me, are you...?” she smiled fondly at Trixie, who slowly shook her head. Again, Trixie looked rather fascinated. “You know, I showed you my Demon face, back then." Maze cocked an eyebrow at Trixie. "Did I _ever_ tell you how glad I was that you found it _cool_...?” Maze gestured quotation marks with her fingers. It took Trixie only a second to close her mouth. Then Trixie beamed, took a deep breath and started to fire away with rapid questions at Maze. “Oh, Maze, does it hurt? Your other face, I mean? Wait, which one is your real face? Why is it like that? Why are you two here, in LA, you and Lucifer, I mean? What do you...” Maze held up her hand to stem the flood, smiling fondly. _She knew it, her girl had it in her!_   She had more courage than all the boosting male scumbags combined whom she had hunted down so far! “We are here because the Lord of Hell decided that he wanted _a chance of scenery_ , and I came along as his protector.”

Maze sighed. “I solemnly swear that we will do a full ask-the-Maze evening, with a hot chocolate, snuggling down at the fireplace at home, when we have the time, ok? But first things first, Zoé, right? You’ll have to wait here, I’ll get Lucifer up from his club!” As she strode back into the elevator, Maze added “Go raid Lucifer’s chocolate stocks, you know where they are. You need your strength. Than is an ORDER, Trix!” Maze bellowed but she smiled, her face and her beautiful radiant eyes shining with happiness. How well this revelation had went! Since feelings were not her thing, right? The doors closed, gone she was.

~~~~~*~~~~*~~~~~~

Trixie remembered Maze’s order. She had went into Lucifers sweetie supplies nearly a year ago and “borrowed” some. She remembered now how Lucifer – the Devil, she reminded herself - was not angry at all at her when he found out. Instead, he had praised her excellent taste in quality to Chloe, how she had picked only the very best and most expensive Swiss pralinés from his supplies! Trixie took one piece of the Swiss assortment of pralines out of Lucifers cupboard in the kitchen and put it in her mouth. The divine taste and the sugar infusion was a blessing. She munched chocolates and sipped on her coke (she’d rediscovered the bottle stuck in her hand only just now).

Then she started to analyse Maze’s revelation in the light of what she had seen and witnessed of Lucifer in the past.

How could this Lucifer be the Devil? That evil “Satan” being her Abuelita always talked about, when she was with Dan’s parents. Who, according to Grandma, tricked people into doing evil things? Logically this would mean that Lucifer had to be responsible for the actions of those evil men who had trapped Zoé and her? No way, never, ever! She had often enough sensed Lucifer’s silent rage, radiating off him like the burning desert heat, whenever he and her mom had worked a case and gone through documents at their home. Particularly when her mom had tried to hide things from her. Which translated into a case where “sex things” or “children” were involved. Nope, Abuelita, sorry! Not evil! Rather the opposite. Trixie made the first note on her mental list.

Did Lucifer have any super powers when he was the Devil? Could he perhaps miraculously fix everything...? How nice that would be... Could he, what, perhaps rescue Zoé, by – what did she know – perhaps knock down walls? Or ban the bad guys with a blast of fire from his hands like some of the Marvel superheroes, or something else...? Trixie scanned her brain for indications for that in the past, then shook her head. If Lucifer could do such things, he surely would have done that every now and then in all the cases he had worked with her mum. Then mummy would _believe_ that he was the Devil, and not insist that he was delusional or traumatized or, well, just too much Lucifer. Ok, no spectacular superhero powers, then. She sighed.

But there was something. “Magician” swam to her mind. She recalled how her mum had, early on with Lucifer as her partner (or rather the annoying club owner who was sticking to her like wart plaster, as she had put it then) tried to unravel how Lucifer had managed to push a grown man through a glass window with just a flicker of his hand? And there was more: Trixie remembered how about a year ago Lucifer had grabbed their large Christmas tree with just one hand, since he held a coffee mug (with a shot of whiskey from his hip flask that only she had witnessed) in his other hand, and put it to the supporting pedestal like it was nothing while he sipped the mixture? She now recalled that she had even sensed his abnormal strength in her own body before, when he had picked her up and held her high on Chloe’s request, so that Trixie could fix the newly painted picture to the wall in the living room. Never had his strength been a threat for her. She was not frightened of him. Rather the opposite, she had loved to hug him to be able to sense his strength. It made her feel save and cared for just when she touched him. Plus, he radiated warmth all the time, always a nice touch for cold fingers (or feet).

HA! Another check on her list! The Devil likely had above-average-human strength. That might come in handy.

Then, he always had just strolled into their home when it pleased him. They had somehow grown accustomed to that. But it was not normal: He got in, even when she had briefly before turned the key in the lock. Mummy had afterwards always assumed that she had falsely remembered locking the door and explained it away. How strange that she did that.... why did she always do that?

Trixie also recalled her Mum talking about Lucifer’s “mojo thing”, as she called it. That he got confessions out of criminals with an ease that nobody else could get. So there were definitely some more special devil powers on her mental list to tick off.

Her mind raced, her head ached. She sank to the floor and rubbed her face. Reality was a tangling debris of shattered glistening childhood dreams and nightmarish reality shards cutting into her flesh. But her new reality also delivered novel revelation bricks to build a little hut to seek shelter. And hope was the glue that held all the mess together. Hope that there could be a good end! Somehow.

~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~

The elevator dinged and opened. “Whatever it is, Maze, nothing is important enough to miss a distracting night of drinking, music and sex” she heard Lucifer’s angry voice. “Believe me, this IS an emergency! If you would just listen, only once! I’m so FED UP with you licking your wounds and sulking at the piano! Just because you got your wish granted and Chloe dates someone else, free will and all!” Maze shot back. “ _Oh, is that so?_ I had no choice, I just did what I have to! The detective does not want to work with me anymore...” ”..no, your buddy Cain is excellent in making you THINK that she wouldn’t want that” Maze fumed. She seemed on the brick of kicking him. Trixie’s heart sank. Lucifer was in a bad mood, obviously because of her mum, and Maze was not exactly a soothing mediator! Would Lucifer refuse to help her because Mummy had started to go out with Marcus...?

Lucifer had moved to the bar to pull himself another drink, his hands shaking with anger at Maze. Who was bellowing something in a different, rough, hard language at him. “Look, Cain has suffered the same from the hands of my father than I did!” he growled back. “Yeah, so Chloe’s the bad guy? You really think that?” Maze held her dragon claw knife under his nose. “Remember when you last time labelled her the bad guy, and (Maze hesitated for a brief moment, as if she suddenly recalled something) SOMEONE ELSE had leaked the crucial information to the goddess...?”

Maze peered around. There Trixie was, sitting in the shadows. Lucifer had not noticed the small slender figure who now, suddenly, started to shiver with the task before her. How could she get through to Lucifer, make him help her...?

Lucifer rolled his itching shoulder blades to prevent his wings from popping out and strolled over to the sofa. “And where the bloody hell IS your important emergency, Maze?” he demanded, impatient. He flung himself down, his elegant lanky frame sprawled onto the couch, one arm stretched out over the backrest. He took an angry gulp of his drink and slammed it down on the nearby table. Trixie could swear that his eyes and face glowed a bit and she sensed something.... he seemed to radiate something like power. She had not really a word for it. In the light of her new knowledge, all of this was probably not just a trick of the warm glowing liquor cabinet. But Maze had said not to fear him. Which she just found a bit hard to do.

Trixie straightened her chin and took a few steps out of the shadows until she stood before the Devil. Lucifer’s head shot up, his eyes widened as he recognized Beatrice Decker, of all... people? Small humans? Trixie could sense that she was completely NOT what he had expected. She cleared her throat and shot her eyes. A stray tear crept out and tickled down her cheek. D..Dangled nerves! She brushed it away angrily.

“I am very sorry to disturb you, Mr Morningstar,” she addressed him. “I ask you to kindly hear me out. I need your help. I want to... make a deal with the Devil.” Lucifer’s mouth fell open. Trixie set her jaw and looked straight into Lucifer’s dark eyes. When she took a deep breath and exhaled, her breath annoyingly hitched as if she had been crying (which she had not!). She gulped. “A deal to save my friend Zoé from.... from a fate worse than death,” she added solemnly. Admittedly, her last words were nicked from a Disney movie. But she did not knew how else to describe the nightmarish looming danger she felt for Zoé.

Maze grinned. Well played, little one! Now he listens! “I rescued her from Hailong Wong’s shop, Lucifer. Hailong had saved her from one of the Manchinelli gang men whom she had escaped,” Maze threw in. “I must say she makes me proud, this little fighter!”

Lucifer looked at Beatrice Decker as if he saw her for the first time. The dark-haired girl had grown up and was turning into a slender teenager. Her hair was tangled and in disarray, blood had trickled down her temple where Sleazeball had pulled out her hair. Her shirt was ripped at the hem, her face tear-stained, her arms bruised. Trixie glanced to her feet and then up at him again. Why did Lucifer just stare at her? Why did he not say anything? How could she get him to react?

Trixie sank to her knees to move closer around the table that was in her way, in order to peer into his face from below, desperate large brown eyes finally boring into dark ones. She could not read his expression. Curious? Bewildered, or distant? “There is not much I can give you, Lucifer”, she offered, pressing on. “I could perhaps... I can offer that I will never hug you again...” She remembered that he valued the truth. “You know, I did it because I feel somehow save when I touch you. And you squirmed always so funnily when I did that,“ a small smile flickered across Trixie’s face just for a second. She sighed. “I can also give you back your favour to teach me to drive, if you want... not that I want to”, she added. Again her stupid breath made that trembling hitching noise when she exhaled, “...then you do not have to put up with “the spawn.” She put her last words in question marks with her fingers, “I mean, now that you will never become my... I mean, when you and Mummy do no longer... anyway,“ Trixie briefly closed her eyes, her heart ached. What else could she offer? Her brain went into overdrive. “I can also promise that I will bake you your favourite cookies,” she rambled on. “The ones that you always stole... ah, nicked, from Mummys cupboard... you say how often you want some, and I make them and give them to Maze for delivery.” Her voice trailed off. “So you would not have to see me, or us...”, she whispered. Trixie felt that stupid, overwhelming, childish urge to hug Lucifer’s legs again, to feel the comforting warmth of him. She shoved her hands under her knees to prevent any unwanted actions. She was doing this all wrong! Trixie could kick herself that her request for a favour had turned into an unwanted confession!

Lucifer exhaled softly, completely taken aback. Finally, something dawned on him. “Beatrice Decker,” he sounded as if he noticed for the first time that she was a human being and not an extension of her mother, “you do believe me who I am.” This was not a question, but a statement. “And you...MISS me in your life..?” Trixie’s head shot up. Lucifer had tilted his head a bit towards her, his eyes were large dark orbs and glistened in the darkness. “Of course she misses you, you idiot,” Maze kicked in angrily, “every day, as I repeatedly told you! And as does Chloe, by the way! If you only would start to listen to me!” Maze’s level of tolerance towards feelings and the stubborn ignorance of her former boss was nearly exhausted.

Lucifer eyed the girl before him who had mysteriously graduated now in his mind from “spawn”, aka extension of his detective, to an individual with her own mind. Slowly, as if to test a theory, he did what he had never done willingly before: He stretched his hands forward for her to take. She hesitated briefly, then she let her small hands sink into his large palms with a shuddering sigh. “Of course I will have your back in this”, his voice was as solemn as hers. She felt how binding that promise was – to himself, to her. “We will definitely need a good plan and more information to get your friend back,” his gaze flickered to Maze who nodded grimly. The warmth of his grip spread through Beatrice’s body, welcome and reassuring. His thumbs rubbed little gentle circles on the back of her hands.

“You do not have to be afraid when you touch me, you know. I am not contagious,” she reassured him, earnest.

She felt rather than she heard that he chuckled. “I know that, Beatrice” he tried her name on his tongue as if to get better used to it, “and regardless what bazillion-millions you would carry, I cannot get infected. Celestial metabolism and all.”

“No, I... was mostly afraid to break or harm you without intention. Children are small and delicate and I... I have no experience with small living humans. Besides you, that is. Now, I guess, I have to learn and practice.” He sighed and got up, carefully pulling her up with him as if she was breakable, still holding her hands. “Does that mean that you accept my offers...?” Trixie asked.

Lucifer inclined his head. “I accept your offer to refrain from lying in ambush and hugging me by surprise. Instead, I ask you to teach me human child handling in general, and Beatrice Decker handling in particular. Deal?” He raised an eyebrow, and she nodded. She could not help the grin of joy that spread over her features.

“And I’ll take the cookie offer. But only with Beatrice-Decker delivery,” he added. “Ah, and I will NOT go back on my deal with the driving lessons, a deal’s a deal!” She beamed at him which sent a surprising wave of warmth through his chest. He needed to find out if Maze was occasionally affected by the sp.. by Beatrice in the same way.

“OK, if you two got it, finally, we need to plan the fighting strategy!” Maze made slightly nauseous sounds and wrinkled her nose. All that softness made her feel as if she was itching all over her body.  “There is no time to loose! Trix, explain what happened! Remember: As detailed as necessary, as short as possible!” Maze ordered.

“YessSir, Maze! Right!” Trixie swallowed and rapidly fired forward her story. Both faces directed at her grow grim the longer she spoke. It helped, however, that Lucifer touched her right hand every now and then, with absentminded curiosity, as if trying something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments! You have no idea how encouraging this can be.... hope you enjoyed the next chapter!


	3. A confession, bad memories and the hellish trap of guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trixie spills the beans about her "drug deal" and Lucifer has to relive the memory of his bad breakup with Chloe and improve on his Trixie-handling skills, even explaining the functioning of Hell to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all know that things have to get rough with Deckerstar before they can get better, yeah? This story, although Trixie-Lucifer-Maze centric, is no exception. The heart of a mother is reached by her kids (or in this case, daughter) - just bear with me here, I promise it gets better!

Beatrice stood straight before the devil and her demon friend, her body language expressing urgency and concentration. Lucifer still tried to merge the “little spawn” picture stuck in his head with that of the slender, near-teenage-but-not-yet-woman girl before him. Her dishevelled state and bruises clearly spoke of her recent ordeal.

“I have grown close to a new friend you may have seen once or twice, Lucifer, when you... last visited us”, Trixie started. She gulped at the memory of the last time Lucifer had been at their home, and his and Chloe’s awful fallout.

“Her name is Zoé Vanderbilt, and she is the most loyal, faithful and _best_ friend I have ever had at school”, Trixie’s voice radiated the warmth of her emotions. The picture of Zoé, dangling from that man’s grip, screaming with his blows, popped up before her inner eye, unwanted. Trixie swallowed, closed her eyes, and whipped away another stray tear angrily

“You know, Lucifer, Zoé is also the most beautiful young girl I’ve ever seen there whenever I got Trix from school”, Maze interjected, “all long legs and graceful movements. Doe-brown eyes, shy behaviour, radiant smile, like sun cracking though clouds. You know what _that_ means when the Manchinelli gang is involved, _right_?” Maze and Lucifer exchanged glances. Lucifer nodded grimly, his jawline hardening.

Meanwhile Trixie had gathered herself. “Zoé’s mum Ylva has breast cancer. She’s in medical treatment, with radiotherapy every few days, over weeks, now. She was supposed to have surgery in two weeks, and more radiotherapy afterwards. But, you know, the new bill recently that our... _government_ passed lately? You know, the one that has big companies pay less taxes, but takes away the health insurance from so many people? Now, Zoé’s mum’s lost her health insurance. She has a “precondition”, they said, they won’t pay any of the medical treatment she needs.” Trixie shuddered with anger, cleared her throat and blinked.

Trixie remembered only too well how desperate Zoé had been, when she came to school on the day the bill had been passed, her eyes all red and puffy. How Mr Noack, their insufferable history teacher who always seemed to skip landmark dates of American history such as Martin Luther’s speech, had bragged about how the new Government was swiping out all the un-American rubbish the former Government had invented. How she, Trixie, had tried to comfort Zoé after she had locked herself up in one of the girls’ toilet cubicles, crying. Only that there was no comfort. No money, now cancer treatment, no hope. And then it had even gotten worse.

“Also, Zoé’s dad Jesse works for AT&T,” Trixie continued in a rush, “they had first given their employees some extra money, in celebration of that new GOP bill.” Trixie pulled a face. “Then, just one week later, Zoé’s dad got a letter from AT&T, saying that he and hundreds of his colleagues were all _fired_! Just like that! _Just before Christmas!_ ”, Trixie almost shouted, her outrage ringing through the penthouse. Maze recalled how Trixie had stormed and raged at home that day. About the inhuman injustice of some egoists who had _just decided like that_ that Ylva did not deserve a chance to fight for her life.

“The Vanderbilts are not rich, just hard working people with a normal income. They had bought a little apartment after Zoé’s little brother Steve was born, three years ago,” Trixie continued, speaking fast. “Zoé’s mum had to quit her job at the California state University after the cancer was diagnosed and the radiotherapy was making her nauseous all the time. Zoé was with my mom, Maze and me mostly then... you know, Ylva only had these time contracts, like a lot of scientists do. They tried to get a credit to pay for her mum’s medical treatment after that...that bill was passed. But with her being ill, and Jesse fired....” Trixie’s voice trailed off.

“Why did you not ask me for help?” Lucifer inquired, frowning. “It would have been no big deal for me to step in and just...” “I –I tried, Lucifer,” Trixie whispered, a tear suddenly trickling down her left cheek. “When I was a kid mum said that I was strictly forbidden to ask you for _anything_ , after you gave me my new all-American doll, my Ella, I mean...”

Lucifer exchanged glances with Maze who cocked an eyebrow. “Got there, finally?” Maze’s look seemed to say. Obviously, Trixie did not consider herself a child any longer. With a pang of regret, Lucifer understood that his chance to take “kids inside” lessons from Beatrice’s book was irrevocably gone. She was a teen now.

“When I had finally worked up the courage to go against mum’s advice and ask you...” Trixie recalled the last day Lucifer had been at their place, two months ago. “Remember? You argued with mum when you burst in.... I - tried to get your attention, but...” Trixie fell silent. Lucifer recalled the scene and his argument with Chloe all too vividly. He had wanted nothing more than to drown that particular memory ever since! In booze, music, sex.... the usual Tuesday. Only that he did not succeed. At. All. “I - I remember....”, Lucifer breathed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trixie had approached him while he had been fighting with Chloe. When he was desperately trying to make her see that Marcus was Cain, that he was dangerous, that he had this hidden agenda to get himself killed, that he was using her as a tool. To achieve his greatest desire to die. Lucifer knew perfectly well that self-killing or even a constructed “increasing the chances for self-killing on duty” would not work for Cain. They had tried so much during their brief unholy alliance, without success. His Dad had made sure of that! However, being around _Chloe_ all the time would simply increase the statistical chances for him to get killed on duty (and resurrect shortly after), given their police jobs’ challenges. Ever since Cain had found out (when he, Lucifer, had not been there for her!) that Chloe also made _him_ vulnerable when he invested into getting into her good books and stir feelings for him in her, Cain had taken this maniac interest in her. In retrospect, Lucifer could even tell when Cain’s plan had been formed to use Chloe – after he had taken the knife to his shoulder after the Axara case.

Lucifer had tried his very best to come to terms with his own all-consuming jealousy when he finally, _finally_ learned the hard way that Chloe’s growing affection for their Lieutenant was real, all too damn real. That she had free will to choose whomever she wanted, all along! That HE had messed up his chances to be with her for nothing!

Pierce had outmanoeuvred him perfectly after Chloe had invited Marcus instead of Lucifer to the Axara concenrt. With his infuriating but patient “ _I care for you so much, but I’m too much of a kick-ass guy to tell you_ ” behaviour that had slowly started to land with Chloe. _His_ detective... The little things Pierce did for her, here and there. Never overdoing it. His reliability, always being there when he said he would. When he, Lucifer wasn’t! When he had been OBSESSED with other things, his wings, the Sinnerman, the lack of his devil face, top hat conquests... He could not even blame anyone else! Only himself! Never ever had Pierce to _say_ anything to point out the differences between him and Lucifer to Chloe. Perfectly well played! And he, Lucifer, had been too deep into his rage at his Dad to _notice_ how his detective slid away. That she was ANYTHING but destined to be his consort! No Dad machinations, in the end. When he had learned that he had withdrawn even more, to leave her room. She had the right to be with whomever she wanted.... free will was holy to Lucifer.

Cain probably did not CARE much when Chloe would _die_ in the wake of something dangerous in their jobs, too! As long as Cain got his desperate, century-long wish granted. He would not even see why _Chloe_ _dying_ would be much of a problem, since she surely was destined for the Silver City! “Well, humans are born and die all the time”, he and Cain even had clinked glasses to that, when they had posed as a gay couple during the wood chipper case! Chloe dying.... the fear overwhelmed Lucifer when he thought of the possibility. It would take his detective out of his reach for all of eternity.

This had been the exact point where Lucifer had drawn the line. When Pierce’s behaviour pattern had finally dawned on him. He had to warn her, she needed to know the truth! During his and Chloe’s argument, back on that day that Beatrice was talking about, Lucifer had even been on the brick of showing Chloe his wings. As a last desperate measure to make her believe him. But Chloe had finally ENOUGH of his ramblings. Her raging, angry words still rang in his ears!

Lucifer clearly recalled the scene: He had leaned over the kitchen counter; Chloe had stood on the other side, arms crossed in front of her chest, defensive, face set. Trixie had stood by his side, looking up at him, trying to get his attention. Before his argument with Chloe had completely taken flight. Lucifer now recalled how Trixie’s eyes had dashed back and forth between him and Chloe, caught in the crossfire _. Desperate. A bit like him and his siblings, caught between The Goddess and his Dad, actually_ , he thought. Lucifer had vaguely assumed that the spawn had wanted to prevent their argument, back then. Beatrice had tugged on his jacket hesitantly, in a very un-Trixie-ish shy way. Then she had tried to take his hand. Repeatedly. Her big brown eyes, directed upward. And wasn’t there a tear running down her cheek? Her pleading look.... “Lucifer? _Lucifer?_ Please, I want to show you something... I made a gift for you.... in my room, can you come, _please_...?” And, in a lower voice, “ _Mum, Lucifer, stop, please stop.._.” Lucifer now even recalled her whisperings. She HAD trusted him to help, back then! He remembered now how he had shaken Beatrice off when she had hesitantly touched his hand, irritated that the detectives’ _spawn_ was so annoyingly _insistent_!

Then, Chloe had ordered Trixie to her room to “resume their discussion”. Lucifer recalled how the little, but not-so-little-anymore girl had looked up at him, lips moving silently, retreating backwards to her room, as if she wanted to teleport some message to him.

Once the door to Beatrice’s room had closed, his and Chloe’s argument had completely gotten out of control. Lucifer shuddered when he recalled Chloe’s hurt and angry voice. “How DARE you come HERE and blame MARCUS! HE is always there for me, always reliable! When HE says he’ll come, he’ll come! No TOP HAT LADY he needs to sleep with first, or a bachelorette party to organize! Marcus’s NOT been running to Vegas after our first kiss! (Lucifer had cringed at this.) Or married a stripper to hold me at arms’ length!” Even in his numb state of mind, Lucifer registered that she had guessed right what he had done there. But too late, he had messed it up... “He doesn’t think that his top-hat radar is HARMED by coming with me to Trix’ school play! I can RELY on him!”

“....but detective, please listen to me....”, Lucifer had pleaded, trying to make her see reason, heart aching all over. He knew that he deserved her wrath. “Pierce just tries to get into your good books so he can be around you! Because he wants to DIE! You may make him vulnerable, as you make me! You need to believe me! He’s actually Cain, the world’s first murderer, who was punished by my Dad to walk...” At this point, Lucifer had noticed a _microsecond_ too late that he had pushed the detective over the edge. She, the controlled woman who bottled her emotions up all the time, had completely lost her temper. Her aqua eyes had turned green-gray like the stormy ocean when she scowled at him.

“ENOUGH!”, Chloe had roared, temper flaring. “I’ve had ENOUGH of your delusions! You HAD had your chance, didn’t you!? You didn’t WANT to be with me! Remember? “ _That’s what we are, just friends_?” YOU said that! After I allowed myself to fall for you, stupid IDIOT that I was! Because I thought you _cared_! You were the one who ran! I stood there in your empty penthouse, back from the hospital, weak, longing for you and crying! Longing for you, only for you, my friend, my _love_! But no, nothing! No letter, no explanation, not even so much as a damn POSTCARD! Ah, and _then_ you popped back up with a STRIPPER WIFE on your arm, as if _nothing_ had happend!?” Chloe’s voice broke. She took a shuddering breath. When she spoke again her voice was raw and desperate. “I just cannot _stand_ all this, the hot-cold, on-off any longer, Lucifer!” she whispered. Her eyes bored into his, full of sadness and desperation.

All Lucifer could do was gape at Chloe, soft lips parting, but no sound came out. The epiphany hit him like a ton of bricks: She had free will. _She has had it all the time!_ Remorse and turmoil rose in him like the tide between Scylla and Charybdis and swallowed him. Lucifer tried to speak up, but Chloe raged again, cutting him across.

“And NOW that I’m finally with someone who’s actually _interested_ in the little _shoe_ , he’s supposed to be BAD for me? A murderer, even? WHAT nonsense is this, now? You blame _HIM_? _Really_? I’m done with you and your jealousy, Lucifer! It is NONE of your business with whom I go out! Get OUT of my house! NOW!” Chloe had pointed towards the door, shaking with rage. Angry tears streamed down her cheeks.

“But detective, I had distanced myself from you because I wanted to protect you! Because I lo..” Lucifer had tried, but she had cut across him, again. “You DON’T need to come BACK! Until you tell me the entire TRUTH and stop going BACKWARDS! I’m DONE with you, Lucifer, I can’t stand your delusions any longer! You are _never_ honest with me, your on-off erratic behaviour just _kills_ me! I need to protect myself...!” _By holding up a shield made of Marcus_ , she thought. _What the hell am I doing here?_ It felt all so wrong, but her bottled up anger had just, finally exploded like a volcano that had been overdue. Tears streamed down her face. She was unaware of them. Lucifer had stood before her, lips slightly parted, his deep brown eyes on her, with that adorable look of a confused young boy that usually got to her every time. She braced herself. Not today, not again!

Lucifer was struck speechless by the extent of her pain. He had caused all of this! There was no one else to blame! And in a flash of insight, he understood that it was his penance to loose her. Lucifer stared at his beautiful, angry, radiant detective. No, not his, no more! To drink in her sight, imprint it on his retinae. To remember her. To keep her picture safe in his heart.

“Very well. If this is what you truly desire, detective...?” Lucifer had finally murmured. Devastated. She did neither nod nor shake her head, but crossed her arms and set her jaw straight, blue eyes . a sea of pain. Lucifer swallowed and closed his eyes briefly with the onslaught of emotions that hit him. “I’ll rid you of my presence, then, _Chloe..._ ” he whispered, her name his prayer.

Even though Lucifer had spoken softly, his words rang around her living room into the silence as if he had shouted them out aloud. They both felt devastated by their argument, looking at each other longingly, but the words hung between them like hellish fog. Both felt the turning of tides: A final parting of ways.

True to his word as always, Lucifer had turned around and prepared to leave. _Is it a trick of the light that his eyes are glistening?_ , Chloe wondered.

Chloe watched him go, wanting and not wanting to say “please stay!” at the same time. When Lucifer stood in the doorframe, he had turned around one last time. His pained and hurt gaze almost made her apologize and take back her angry words.

He spoke with defeated dignity in that warm, vibrant voice of his. “Please, Chloe. Please, my....” Lucifer swallowed. He had forsaken every right to call her “love”. After one shuddering breath, his voice was back under control. “Promise me that you will call me whenever you need my help. Be it with Pierce, be it with our... your job. Or whatever, whenever, day or night. Please!” Lucifer’s desperate, honest dark eyes bored into hers. To reach her. To touch her. “Please. My... friend. Chloe. Never feel too proud to contact me, whatever it is. Can you promise me that? Please? _Chloe?_ ” Hearing her first name, spoken by him with such tenderness, nearly broke her. Chloe wanted to shout out to him, to take it all back, to tell him to stay. Her voice, cracked with emotion, did not work. Instead, she nodded and closed her eyes. When she opened them again Lucifer was gone. Chloe heard his Corvette fire up and the motor sounds fade away.

Chloe leaned her head to the doorframe of the front door, exhausted to the bone. She should feel better now that she had gotten this all out, finally. Now that she had made a final decision. She had told herself over and over that Marcus was the better choice. The reliable choice. Only she didn’t believe herself. Her treacherous heart had its own mind. Chloe heard muffled sobbing sounds leaking into the living room from Trixie’s closed door. She needed to go to her and comfort her little monkey. Soon. Only she herself felt so.... lost. When she closed the front door, her eyes fell onto the doorsill. Although it had not rained in weeks, there were two wet dots on it. When she closed the door, they shimmered like drops of blood, ignited by the low rays of the setting sun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Trixie’s storyline had arrived at that particular fallout and the painful silence between Chloe and Lucifer that followed, all three gave a heavy sigh simultaneously, even Maze. Nothing had been the same afterwards, ever since. Lucifer buried his face in his hands and drew a painful grimace as he slid them down. A look of understanding passed between two pairs of dark eyes, one eons old, and the other just shouldering the challenges of leaving childhood behind.

“You know, usually mum comes when I’m crying. I mean, I did, after you left”, Trixie whispered, as if she could read his mind. “But mum did not come this time. After I was... empty... I went upstairs. And heard that she was crying, too...“ Lucifer’s eyes widened and he took in a sharp breath.

Trixie’s eyes closed with the painful memory of how her mother, her solid rock ever since, had been so unhinged. Desperate. How she, Beatrice, had been torn between entering her mothers’ bedroom and comforting her. Two years ago she would have done that, without hesitation. But now that she was more grown-up, she wanted her mother to have her privacy; to keep her in the illusion that her daughter was still her little girl.

Since that day there was this invisible shattered childhood palace between them that Trixie had not been able to bridge or rebuild. Trixie blamed herself for the growing distance between them. She still did. Now, with what has happened, what she’d done, the gap had become even larger.... Maze saved the (memorial) day. “Hey Trix!” she commanded, “ _FOCUS_!”

It helped. “YES Maze!” Trixie straightened, set her jaw and continued her story, matter-of-factly. “So, after my hope for help was gone (Lucifer cringed inwardly), we had to find a way to earn money for Zoé’s family. For her mom’s scheduled surgery and for the continued radiotherapy. First we tried getting jobs, like, in a McDonalds or in this cute little pet shop, were we used to hang out after school together... but they did not take us, we were too young. And we would not have earned enough, anyway.” Trixie sighed. 

“Then, there was this new Instagram pen boyfriend that Zoé had, Julién. Such a sweetie. Handsome... I was a bit jealous, even!” For a flash second, a more grown-up version of Trixie shone through her child-growing-into-teen features. “Zoé is such a talented drawer. She and Julién, they always exchanged their artworks... both loved Japanese Manga and Animé, so... Zoé spilled to him, told him how desperate she was for helping her mother, how they could not pay for her surgery, how she feared that her mother would die....”

“Did Zoé ever meet this Julién in person? Or did you?” Maze growled. “No, Maze. We had his profile picture and some nice pictures of him on his Insta where he was doing free climbing. He is about 15, perhaps....wait...” Trixie inhaled sharply. Her eyes went wide as the truth dawned on her. “Are you saying that Julian... that he was maybe... _not for real_?” Trixie looked suddenly very young and lost. She stared and started to shiver violently.

Not real, indeed! Lucifer could really relate to that feeling. He stood up as if he wanted to pour himself the next drink. With an awkward movement, as if he had to learn how to actually _do_ this, Lucifer hesitantly placed his hand onto Beatrices’ shoulder and pulled her closer. Trixie sensed that Lucifer made a low-pitched, comforting humming noise deep in his throat. She melted into his side, seeking consolation. Confused, Lucifer gave her shoulder another squeeze and hid behind pulling himself a drink at the bar. The girl obviously _really_ felt solace in his touch!

“I’m damn sure that “Julién” was a set-up to capture Zoé’s and your affection!” Maze snarled. “Yes, you’re right, most likely,” Lucifer confirmed, lifting his glass to Maze. “Not a holy boy actually! More a skilled _white-slaver_ on his hunt for fresh m.. girls!” Maze hissed with bared teeth, her claw-like demon knives suddenly out. She whirled them around with a swishing noise, pacing. “Oh _wait_ until I get them! I’ll break every _bone_ that these slime bags may have, one by one!“ Maze’s voice descended into a vibrating demon snarl. “Tell me, Trix, _what_ did this _Julién_ tell you two to do..? I bet he did give you _instructions_.”

“Jul.., I mean, the... boy, I mean man, said that...if we wanted to earn money so desperately, then he just knew how to help us.... First, he did not want to tell us. But then we asked him to, begged, actually... He said that if we delivered a package with...” here Trixie hesitated. She shot a glance at Lucifer, who made an encouraging gesture. She remembered that he valued the truth. “... with _heroine_ (she whispered the word) to customers who expected the delivery, we would get the money for it. Julian, I mean, the _man_ said that a friend of his, one whom he had saved from taking drugs, still had it from time he was a dealer. That this friend was clean now!” Trixie’s words now came out in a rush.

“And that we would do a good deed, because the friend had to deliver the package or else the gang would be after him. J-Julién said that the envelope with the money was still in that old air conditioning funnel in the old warehouse, lots of money. That we could keep the money because he and his friend did not need it.... and that we two were small enough to deliver the package and retrieve the envelope! That we would do him a big service, since his friend would be tempted to take the drugs again when Julién did not get rid of the package!” Trixie now felt absolutely, horrendously _stupid_ for having believed in a story _like_ _that_ , and in someone evil who had pretended to be a friend! Nothing but made-up daydreams, created to lure her and Zoé into....what, exactly? Into delivering drugs or into... something else, right?

Trixie’s eyes grew large and desperate with realization. “Maze, Lucifer... do you think that the story with the drugs and the friend _was all just_ _made up_? That the package he deposited was maybe.... _a trap for Zoé and me..._?” Trixie desperately peered up the faces of the Devil and Demon she trusted. The answer was there. Trixie slipped down to her knees, curled forward and hid her face in her hands, moaning.

“ _I_ persuaded Zoé that we take the risk! For her mother. I was so freakin’ _stupid_! It is _all_ _my_ _fault_ that Zoé has been caught by those men! It was _me_ who was supposed to creep into the funnel, put down the package, and grab the envelope with the money! _Because I’m smaller_....”

Trixie started to sob, desperately trying to hide the sound in her hands. To hold it in. “I wish _I_ was in Zoé’s place... and _what will they do to her_?” Lucifer and Maze exchanged a knowing glance, then looked down at the slender girl who finally broke down. Trixie obviously hated her weakness, particularly in front of her tough friend Maze whom she adored. But the memory of her mothers’ and Lucifer’s break-up, Zoe being caught, the betrayal by fake-“Julién” - it was just too much!

Before Lucifer could react, his right-hand tough-as-nails General had knelt down next to Beatrice. “Hey Trix”, Maze murmured, tugging her in. “Hey, little one. Concentrate! We need you to fight these evil scumbags, right? Think of Zoé. Pull yourself together, will you? Do it for me. And Zoé. _Ok_?” Lucifer had never heard such a soft, caring tone in Hell’s finest torturer. Lucifer filed that information away for potential later use, should she dare and tease _him_ when he was soft...!

Trixie sniffled and did as asked. She rubbed her eyes, which made her five years younger for a second. She straightened again and the impression was gone. “Julién instructed us to come to that warehouse in Baker Street. At that exact time. We had found the package for delivery all right in that underground deposit where he had said we would find it. Then we sneaked into the warehouse to deliver it. Zoé was in front of me when all of a sudden, the lights went on. I ducked behind the nearest shelf...” Trixie quickly wrapped up her story in an astonishingly short, fact-confined arc, chase, fight and all.

“Did you hear names? Of those men?” Maze asked. Trixie frowned. “No, I... well, now you ask... _yesss!_ The one who had grabbed Zoé. “ _Get the little minx, Steve!_ ” the other one had shouted at him. I think it was the one who chased me later!”, Trixie added. “What did they look like?” Maze inquired, while Lucifer, pacing up and down, had whipped out his phone and dialled some numbers. “Well, the one who had grabbed Zoé and was hitting her” (she gulped) “was bulky and of a square build. Dark curly hair, slightly sun-tanned skin. _Wait, one of his lower front teeth was missing!_ ” Trixie grinned, her confidence in herself rising. “The one who chased after me was more slender but all greasy, had dark-blonde hair, and a scar on the left side of his face. A Grin like a slime bag, voice like a blaring goat!” Maze grinned proudly and nodded at Trixie to continue. She exchanged a look with Lucifer that clearly said “MY pupil!” “Her mothers’ daughter!” the devil hissed back. Trixie continued to shoot her words in staccato: “The third one remained in the dark. Dark hair, skin colour like mine, black moustache. Medium height. Probably brown eyes like the first. I did not see more.... sorry.” If only she had taken up more! She was so in panic back then... “Girl, you are amazing!”, Maze praised her, flashed her teeth-rich predator grin at Trixie who smiled back, relieved.

Lucifer nodded at Trixie in appreciation and had his phone up at this ear. Soon he was speaking to someone in rapid Mandarin. Then he hung up. “All right, Maze, Madame Li will instruct her men to report any unusual Van or other movements around the warehouse in Baker Street. She’s also going for information on their potential hiding den through her channels. Let’s hope they have not moved the girl yet. How much time has passed since you retrieved Beatrice from Wong?” “35 minutes”, Maze shot back, short and precise. “That’s a 50-60 percent chance that the Alhambra Triads will be able to track them. Fingers crossed.” Lucifer looked grim. “And with you on their heels on top of the Chinese, the chances increase!”

Lucifer dealt another number. “Heeello, my dear Louie...?”, he leered, “How is my fat little slimebag these days...? Remember the favour _you owe the Devil_...?” Lucifers voice dropped an octave into a leering purr. It had taken on a dangerous vibraton that Trixie had never heard him use since she knew him. He was somehow oozing power across the phone if that was even possible! Lucifer even seemed to be taller and darker, standing there in front of his softly glowing bar.... or did he?

Lucifer’s dark power charms seemed to result in uncomfortable, helpless stammering on the other end of the line. “Oh, don’t worry, Louie, I’m not interested in your damned _soul_. You can keep it. Yeah, yeah, no need to thank me! IF you repay your favour, that is, of course. What I ask of you is easy: Get the word around among Manchinelli’s gang that _Lucifer Morningstar_ is looking for a gracious, very young girl. Preferably dark haired, with light brown skin. _Ah,_ and unharmed and untouched! That part is important! Do you get it, Louie?” Lucifer grinned into the phone with a devilish, dangerous grin. “Yes, yes, of course,” he chuckled, “There will be a high price that will be paid for such a girl, clearly! They will be _surprised_ ,” Lucifer smirked darkly as he turned towards Maze, who returned the grin and swirled her knives, happy-toothy warrior grin fully in place. Finally some action for the Great Dragon! “Yes, yes, a high prize, they’ll be wetting themselves, actually... But only when the girl is untouched. Get it, Louie...? _Untouched_? Yes, of course! A virgin is what I am talking about, you stupid git! Yes! If you manage to transport my order to the trafficking ring, and if I get my hands on the girl before she’s harmed, the favour you owe me will be _deleted_ from the Devil’s book. _All right, darling?_ ”

Obviously satisfied with Louie’s answer, Lucifer made a disgusted face towards Maze and Trixie and hung up. “So, that was Louie the Frog”, Lucifer sighed, revulsion flickering across his face. “I’ll call in a few more, just to make sure!” Lucifer turned around and dialled the next number, now talking in rapid Russian, oozing the same dark power over the line. And then a third call, where he was conversing fluently in Spanish or Portuguese. Each time he was first smirking, tall and dark, then looking more and more nauseous. Lucifer finally hung up. “If Zoé is still unharmed, this should make sure that she will not be ... _mishandled_ until we can get her”, he modified his words with a side glance at Beatrice. A brief silence fell. The Devil growled. He felt how the urge to dole out _punishment_ was rising in him like a spring tide. Too bad he did not have his devil face any loner! How he _missed_ it to scare the culprits into surrender!

“Yes, Lucifer’s right!” Maze nodded towards Trixie with grim ferocity. Only Maze was able to grin predatory and smile sentimental at the same time. She had sheathed her knives (Trixie wondered if she stashed them away in this plane of existence, given her tight leather dress), took up some gear, a rope among it, and prepared to leave. Lucifer and she exchanged glances and Maze nodded. The Devil and his Demon seemed to communicate without many words.

“I’ll check out the warehouse, if they’re still there”, Maze spelled it out for Trixie. “Its not likely, they’ll probably have moved Zoé by now. I do have an idea where their den is, but we need more information. I’ll track them down. Lucifer will stay with you. He’s the telephone switchboard for all kinds of information running in. And for the Alhambra Triads’ observations.” “What will we do if we know where Zoé is?” Trixie asked, pulling herself up, eager to be part of the rescuing party. “Lucifer and I will decide when we know more!” Maze cut her short, squeezed her shoulder, and off she was.

When Maze had left with a ping of the elevator, Lucifer made some more phone calls in different languages. Trixie understood only one of them where Lucifer actually spoke a mixture of English with some Spanish. It seemed that he had hired a private investigator who also owed him a favour, urging the guy on. Lucifer cut him short and hung up because his phone was vibrating. He picked up again. Ah, it was the Chinese gang, Lucifer was speaking Mandarin. Lucifer called Maze next. “Listen Maze. The kidnappers may head for the harbour of Long Beach. I guess.... Yes, yes, I think so too, the storage container area! The Chinese observed a white transport van with a laundry logo that seemed to be fake. They tried to deal the number printed on the van, but it was a dead end. They might have left the warehouse area about fifteen minutes ago”, he told Maze. Then he listened. “Mmh-hm, I see. Yes, fine. Go on!” Lucifer nodded and hung up.

“Maze is on it”, he told Trixie. “By the way, she had found that package you and Zoé were delivering. In the warehouse, on the floor”. Lucifer paused. “Know what was inside...?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow at the girl. “...D..drugs?” Trixie whispered, voice small. “ _Flour!_ Packed in little white packages,” Lucifer sighed. “Proof that the whole thing was arranged to con and trap you two.” Trixie looked horror-struck at the confirmation. The girl dropped onto the couch. Lucifer poured himself another drink at the bar with the back to her. He took a sip, checking his phone for further information every now and then, taking phone calls in all kinds of languages.

Then Lucifer heard the girl behind his back whisper as if to herself. “I feel.... so awful, you know... Zoé.... I cannot stop thinking of her!” The Devil turned around. Trixie had curled up on his couch, hugging her knees she had drawn up, her head resting on top. She stared into space, exhausted. “I mean... Zoé was so brave! When I ran for the door I made a noise by accident...  And then I _heard_ what they did to her, knowing that she had lied for me.... if I had not messed up... it is all my fault! How could I have been so stupid and fall for the story with the drugs...?” Trixie whipped away tears that kept coming more and more frequently.

Lucifer hesitated. A weeping girl. THAT was a challenge. He cleared his throat. “Beatrice? Should I not rather call your mom? Is she not missing you? She will probably be worried sick...” Lucifer trailed off. The prospect of having Chloe storm his place, yelling at him for explanations for what had happened to her daughter was not a pleasant thought.

“No, no, please don’t! Mum cannot miss me, at the moment... she’s out with Marcus tonight.” (This made Lucifer flinch, but Trixie did not see it. She was still addressing her knees.) “Mum had brought me to Zoé’s place and just dropped me off, because she was late and I told her to. I said we wanted to have a sleepover at Zoé’s. And we told Zoé’s parents we were going to sleep at my place, that I just came to pick Zoé up.... Then we went to get the package.” Trixie finally looked up at Lucifer, desperation in her eyes. “I _lied_ to mum, all the time! I never wanted to! I thought I had no choice! And all of that - it was for _nothing_!” The girl had definitely locked herself up in her very own cell of guilt. She was now positively sobbing. Lucifer panicked briefly. Should he not rather call the detective? She would know how to handle her daughter! But she had broken up with him... and Lucifer had promised Beatrice to try and learn child-handling. Or teen-handling, well, whatever. He could do this!

The Devil peered down onto the dark-haired head and sighed. “Beatrice, stop! Look at me!” The girl did not lift her head. Lucifer sighed. Obviously, orders did not work. He took out his handkerchief and held it under her nose, for her to clean herself up. Which she did, sniffling (he would dispose of it later). Lucifer recalled his recent discovery. That his touch was soothing her. He knelt down before her. “Give me your hands, will you?” Trixie hiccupped. She let her legs slide down the couch, extended her arms and placed her hands in his palms. Willingly, without the slightest hesitation. How utterly fascinating! It did not cease to amaze him. Lucifer looked down on the little brown head, still bowed.

“Do you trust me?” Lucifer asked softly. She nodded to her knees. “You know that I am the Devil, right?” She nodded again. “Do you believe me, then, that I know a lot about who is guilty and who is not, and about punishment? Live-long training on the job, and all that...?” Trixie looked up. The hint of a watery smile. Yes! That was the right way to go! Lucifer’s dark brown eyes were as gentle as his voice was. “I know you don’t lie”, she whispered. ”And I trust you.” Which send a wave of warmth through Lucifer’s chest.

He tried to imitate Chloe’s “mom” look, gentle-devil style. “You may have arrived at better decisions than you did here, you and your friend. It was definitely no o.k. to lie to your mum”. Trixie snivelled. “But believe me when I say that it is NOT you two who are guilty here. You have been lured into a perfect trap. One made of guilt and hope. The Guilty are those who had set up the trap. Not those who were caught in it!”

“Lucifer...” Trixie’s voice shook, her eyes boring in his, “Would I feel better if you p.... _punished_ me...?” the last words were a mere whisper. Lucifer sighed again and chuckled sadly. “Unfortunately no, Beatrice”, Lucifer answered truthfully, “regardless of what I or somebody else would do to you. As long as you do not forgive yourself you would still feel guilty” _Did he just feel the need to cradle her and call her something comforting like “little one”?_ No way! That was bloody NOT happening to the Devil!

“Guilt is what gets too many souls into Hell. It drove me mad...” Lucifer admitted. Trixie blinked. His eyes looked suddenly eons old, gazing into a distant past or place. “In particular poor souls who had been oppressed in life by unnecessary and stupid rules or brainwashing.” Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “This is one of the reasons why I absolutely _despise_ institutions or all kinds of extreme religions that drive their parishioners into a constant feeling of guilt and remorse. These brainwashers are the evil doers! Because they take away those souls’ free will. By taking away their sense of their own needs and desires!”

Trixie was now successfully distracted from her own misery. “You mean these souls were driven down to Hell because they _were made_ to feel guilty? By those people who promise them that they would go to _heaven_ if they follow all the rules in the first place?” Trixie’s eyes went wide. She could not help but be enraptured by her conversation with Satan. “Yes, that is quite the accurate way to put it!” Lucifer nodded, surprised by the girls’ insight.

Beatrice slowly stepped out of her chamber of guilt. Lucifer noted it with relief. He grinned at her mischievously and held up his forefinger in a mocking teachers’ pose. “SO, Beatrice Decker, listen! Don’t you DARE feel guilty! Do not desire punishment! Because it is not YOU who deserve it! Instead, we find the culprits and punish them. All right? _Deal?_ ” he challenged. Beatrice looked up at him adoringly, like he was her hero, and nodded. Lucifer again felt this strange warmth blossoming in his chest. _Did all the Decker women have this ability to make him feel all fuzzy?_ A thought occurred to him: He needed to check if the girl made him vulnerable, too!

“Lucifer...?” “Mmmh _?_ ” He noted that Trixie sat on her hands again to restrain herself. “Would you allow me to hug you...? I mean – only a bit. Just briefly. You know, it’s ok if you don’t want me to,” she told him, earnestly. Lucifer thought that he might just try this novel sensation. Strange as it was. Why not? Trying new things was his jam, wasn’t it? “If that is what you desire, Beatrice...?” he raised an inquiring eyebrow at the girl.

“I do, very much so,” Trixie confirmed, nodding with grave sincerity. After he made an inviting gesture, she hesitantly moved closer and sneaked her arms slowly around his midriff. The girl felt unsure if this was appropriate at her age. Or if hugging the Devil was a thing to do at all. But Lucifer had asked her if she desired it. If she was honest with herself, she did. He might be the Devil, but more important was that he was the Lucifer she knew and loved. Trixie tucked her head under his chin. Lucifer pulled her experimentally a bit closer, carefully, exploring the strange sensation of hugging Beatrice Decker. Who actually sighed in joy and snuggled closer into Lucifer’s touch.

After a few seconds, Trixie giggled a bit. "Mmmmh?" Lucifer made a questioning noise. He could feel her smile against his chest. A pair of dark mischievous eyes blinked up at him. “You know what? You really improved your Trixie-handling skills lately, Lucifer! I’m proud of you!”, the girl told him, in a so much Chloe-ish way that his heart skipped a beat. He could not help himself but chuckle at her antics.

This touching thing was not all bad, Lucifer contemplated. Even when it was completely _unrelated_ to any kind of sex activities. He sensed how the tension left the girls’ body. It felt somehow... _satisfying_ to be able to _tend to her desire for comfort_. He felt her finally slip away, giving in to her exhaustion. He laid her down carefully on the couch and went to fetch some silken cover sheets. When his phone buzzed again he picked up and moved away to let the girl sleep.

It was Maze and she had a lead! Wonderful! Lucifer smirked. At least, the detective no longer _tamed_ him.... Lucifer ginned, wickedly and dark. He could go all devil on the traffickers. And he was sure he would love it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long silence, I hope you enjoy my little story that gives Trixie a sronger role. Although I started the story some time ago when it just was revelealed that Marcus was Cain, it still fits to the show in most aspects and I adapted it to a certain extent to the series up to 3.18.


	4. Dragon fighting, demon style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maze sets out to hunt the criminals who have Zoé, Trixie's best friend. Have some demon action, my fellow Lucifans, for distracting from the Deckerstar misery in the show... (Beware, the content contains violent demon action and bad language / mention of rape. If you do not want to encounter it, please skip the chapter.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this slightly AU story, the fallout between Chloe, Trixie and Maze has not happened; but Lucifer and Chloe had their fallout and Chloe is with Marcus (which changes at the end of the story, promise!)

The blood-red Tesla roadster shot through the streets of LA like a red blur. Maze grinned her toothy predator grin, canine teeth on display, growling happily in anticipation of a thorough hunt. As always, she ignored the traffic rules. It was a miracle in itself that Maze never got into trouble for her way of driving! Ok, it might have helped that Maze was just the second person, well, Demon, to drive a 2.0 Tesla sportster prototype, since people kept staring at its magnificent acceleration which left all Porsches, Bougattis or Ferraris behind as if they were snail-mail trucks.

A short while ago, Maze had helped Elard Mask’s family out of a tight spot in a truly Mazikeen-the-bounty-hunter like fashion, which ended with Maze delivering Mask’s abducted son back to his family. _And_ by delivering the two gift-wrapped wailing kidnappers on the doorstep of the local sheriff’s office, rounded up in such a way that their noses were stuck in the other one’s bared backside. Nobody knew who had snapped the pictures of the tied-up criminal couple, decorated with a red gift bow tie and post card saying “two asshats right on track”. The picture had gone viral - the internet never forgets. Mazikeen herself considered the modern version of the medieval pillory a very appropriate punishment, with excellent side benefits for the laughing victims. It was possible that the maltreated, abducted boy, about the age of Trixie, who had been kept in a cramped wooden box, had recovered so quickly because of his tormenters being public laughing stocks. Maze was told later that the smart boy could not stop laughing, when he finally had managed to get a peek at the pictures (although his parents tried to keep everything away from him). In the end, Maze had not said “no” to the offer of the immensely grateful parents to be the first-ever street test driver of the roadster’s 2.0 prototype.

\--------------------***************--------------------

Maze reached the old warehouse in Baker street in record time. She entered the seemingly deserted building and she sniffed the air. There it was, a faint scent of Zoé; Maze could taste fear, desperation and blood, and although she usually thrived on the mixture - a truly lovely odour for demons - it made her feel uneasy and furious, a first-timer! Mazikeen did not need light. Her vision adapted much faster to the dark than any humans’, and allowed her to use even traces of light. Usually, much to her bounties’ disadvantage. She sniffed again, familiarizing herself with the stench of the three male criminals.

Soon, she found the infamous package Trixie had mentioned. It lay innocently on the floor, burst open from the impact when Zoé had dropped it. Maze licked her finger, sniffed and tasted the white powder. The taste confirmed her suspicions. Floor, not cocaine. A trap - set for _her lovely girls_! Maze growled, her Demon face flickering on and off when fresh anger shot through her veins. She quickly searched the perimeter, confirming her suspicions that the building was deserted, the criminals had left.

Maze turned around to leave. Suddenly, one of the metal doors creaked open. A tall bulky figure with curly hair strode inside, briefly visible against the doorframe lighted by the streetlights from behind. Maze hid quickly as the building light flashed on. Sniffing the air told her that one of the men who had captured and abducted Zoé had returned. He seemed to search for something on the floor, murmuring under his breath. Maze moved nearer around stacked goods on their towering shelves. Deadly silent, a black panther, ready to strike. The bulky man stooped down and picked up something tiny from the floor. A waft of Zoé reached Maze’s nostrils: Zoé’s body scent and her blood was on the man’s hands!

Just as Bulky was about to get up, Maze shot forward behind and jumped. She hit him in the back full force, twisting his right arm and hand backwards up to the breaking point as he fell forward, clutching his hand that held the tiny object and twisting it back even further. The force of her impact had Bulky land ungraciously flat on his face with a muffled grunt, howling in agony. One of Maze’s legs hit his lower back and his kidneys, the other leg nailed his left upper arm to the floor. Her left hand groped his hair and jerked his head backwards. “ _Gerroff me!_ ” Bulky gurgled and struggled to break free. Maze growled and increased the pressure on his right arm and head until his legs started kicking and trembling. She slipped the tiny object from his palm into her hand.

“You took what was not yours to take, scum...” Maze purred softly into his left ear. Bulky under her stopped fighting and lay still for the first time, listening. “Wha... what do you WANT?” he croaked, then, trying his best to sound menacing, “You WAIT until I GET you, lady!” Maze considered her course of action to extract the necessary information out of him as quick as possible. Torture took probably too long.... Maze decided on a faster way.

Maze used Bulky’s body on the floor to propel herself backwards like a cat (he grunted at the impact), while slipping the tiny object into her leather pants’ pocket. She landed behind the criminal and watched him slowly clamber to his feet (although humans might have considered his recovery quick). Bulky huffed and panted, bristling with anger. His blood-shot eyes opened in surprise as he turned around and saw that his attacker was a delicate, small woman who eyed him curiously. Bulky bared his yellow teeth in a malicious grin. _Yep. The front teeth is missing, just as Trixie had described!_ She had found her first bounty.

“Well, well, look whom we have here?” Bulky stretched up to his full height, rubbing his maltreated right arm unconsciously, as if rubbing daring back into his hurt ego. “Playing Supergirl, are we?” His stance turned to intimidating. He took a step towards Maze who watched him, unaffected. “You know, you have BAD manners, girl!” he grinned and smacked his lips in anticipation, his gaze travelling up and down her trained body, lingering on her breasts. “All you need right now, whore, is a good hard fuck by a real man, to teach you some RESPECT!” Bulky got louder and swelled with confidence by his own words, yellow-teeth grin in place. Maze’s nostrils flared as she smelled his bad breath. She allowed him to come closer. It did not take much imagination to picture Bulky towering over a weeping, beaten girl; moreover, she could still smell Zoé’s blood on him.

Mazikeen stepped backwards as Bulky was approaching, luring him into false safety. “You are really strong... a tall guy, such as you, aren’t you...?” she asked with a sweet, high-pitched-girly voice, head cocked to one side. “So, where do you want to bring me, big guy...? I can escape everything, you know?” Maze upped her girlie-voice game, giving him wide dark eyes. If Bulky had used other parts of his anatomy for thinking, for exmple his brains, he _might_ have been alarmed by the lack of real fear in her voice, but all he could focus on was that magnificent body of hers, clad in the tightest, sexiest leather pants he had ever seen! The bulky criminal chuckled and grabbed for her, only to find his hands empty and the “girl” a few steps backwards, dark eyes still on him. “I’ll take you where no one hears you scream, whore!” he lurched himself forward. Again, he came up empty-handed. Maze smiled grimly and let herself step after step be cornered against a shelf full of old, never-delivered goods, giving him a wide-eyed and lips-parting stare that further impacted his straight thinking. Bulky grinned triumphantly, looming over her. “You will never escape...!” He laughed gleefully. “I’ll take you to our girl-trading headquarters in Long Beach, no girl has ever escaped from there! A beautiful harbour prison, like a Disney world, but made for men...! We export sexy girls throughout the entire country and beyond.... the income is superb! And what is best, I’ll get to break the ones that are fighting back, nasty little bitches! I’m really good at it...” Again he flashed his tooth-missing grin at Maze who filed the information away for later use. “What a luck to make another catch, just after the last one mere two hours ago! You’ll sit in your own princess tower where you can watch the sun setting behind the cranes, but where no one will ever find you! You’re so _delicious_ ”, he smacked his lips again and Maze could smell his arousal, “...a wild-cat whore, gosh, what a _catch_! You’ll be worth a fortune!” Bulky chuckled maliciously. “The Boss will reward me for you, I’ll have you suck my...”

Whatever he had in mind for her to suck never made it into words! Bulky later wailed and wailed on that everything had happened in a blurry instant: Suddenly, the delicate girl before him had bared her fang teeth in a predatory grin, snarling, dropping her human glamor. Some _thing_ with a half-bone-and-sinew face had launched itself forward and groped his throat, slashed his skin with the most searing pain he had ever endured! Bulky’s screams echoed around the empty warehouse. “ _Scream, boy, scream!_ ” Maze hissed lovingly into his left ear, joyfully as only a demon could, sending otherworldly chills down Bulky’s spine. “Guess what, _sweetie_?” She chuckled, increasing the strength of her iron grip. “ _Guess what?_ I got you _here_ , where nobody can hear _you_ scream!”, Maze took a short moment to enjoy the smell of horror coming off of the scumbag, while Bulky’s errant eyes darted over her rotten face and around the room, to find an escape. Maze smiled almost lovingly while she held him in her iron-clad grip, deliberately breaking his left arm with a mere twist of her hands. Then she bent down towards the howling criminals face, menacingly licked his ear, watching him tremble and wail (to her experience, of course he wailed, sadists like him often were snivellers when they were at the receiving end). Then she slowly bit into his left ear deliberately, tasting to mix smell and taste memories for later, for finding his stench trail at the Long Beach Harbour docks. Meanwhile, the criminal screamed at the top of his lungs in horror of being “eaten” by a demon. Maze quickly tied him up and completed her knife handiwork to the music of his screams. Looking down at the package, she sighed and denied herself further joy: There was no time to loose. She got the information she needed.

When the LAPD pocketed Bulky, more than a day and a half later, bound into a package that put his head between his knees, the criminal did not stop babbling and sobbing about being attacked by a real _demon_. His bared back bore the inscription “I’m a fucking child molester”. The officers who transported the babbling wreck of a long-searched-for criminal to the hospital later, found it hard to decide if either the life sentence he was bound to receive after his trial or the inscription on his back (when being put into prison) was going to be the harder punishment. Over a beer, they jointly decided that it was both combined; and that he deserved it. Strangely, the superficial wounds took long to heal; the inscription remained as vivid as it was on the day he got it. 

\--------------***********----------------

Maze cleaned her blade and strode back towards her Tesla, examining the tiny object she had wrangled from the criminal. She hissed in surprise. It was a pearl of the bracelet that matched the one she also wore; the bracelet Trixie and Zoé had made for her. The pearl was marked with a bloody fingerprint that had deliberately been placed on it. Zoé knew, like Trixie, that she was able to smell that it was hers; a clear call for help, a shoot-out to Mazikeen the Great Dragon. Zoé had trusted her to find her, and tried to lay a trail. Bulky had likely discovered Zoé’s “Hänsel-and-Gretel” trick; he obviously went back to clean away all traces of the abduction. Searching around briefly, Maze found another pearl, then another, and finally one last item where the van must have been parked in a side street. It was the silver clover trinket. Marked with a bloody fingerprint. Maze smiled grimly and whipped out her phone to call the Devil. She knew now where the girl was held. And that she was trusting them to save her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to post shorter chapters, in the hope that I will be able to update more frequently. A huge THANKS to all who have left lovely comments and encouraged this old dragon to continue the story. It really motivates me to move on - you rock!


	5. Following the trail of tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer calls in a favor (meet KyloRen the hacker) and Dan to care for his daughter, as Maze tracks down the criminals who abducted Trixie's best friend Zoé. Maze wins an unexpected ally-hellhound surrogate and enjoys the action.  
> Warning: Mentioning of rape and torture! There cannot be light(bringer) action without some darkness first.

Lucifer paced back and forth like a graceful panther, glancing at the sleeping form of Beatrice every now and then. Waiting was not to his liking! Finally, his phone vibrated and he picked up before Maze’s moaning – her personalized ringtone – could fill the penthouse and wake Beatrice.

“I know where they brought Zoé!” Maze informed Lucifer in staccato of what she’d gotten out of Bulky. She still heard the Criminal bloke wail on and on in the warehouse, muffled by the gag she had put on him – luckily too faint for human ears to capture.

“Come to Long Beach harbour. I’ll need Devil force, there’ll likely be an entire earthly hell full of tiny abused humans or teens! Can’t deal with that alone! Think of something...” Maze growled into the phone. “Whatever contacts and favours you have, call them in! Get going, Lucifer, we need to search every room in that old villa to find the girl. Zoé...” Maze added the name softly, then listened.

“Oh, um, ok, I see. You solve that problem first. ...Huh?” Maze sighed, annoyed. “Well, how should _I_ know? Be creative, Lucifer! ...What?” Maze left out an exasperated huff. “ _YES!_ Lucifer, I’m no amateur, you know!” She gestured angrily with her free hand, knuckles clutching the phone, white with eager tension. “ _Yes! I’ll wait for you!_ And _YES_ , the Triads will block the pathways in and out, to fence the scumbags! See you soon, _Old Scratch!!_ ” Maze cheered, hung up and grinned with excitement.

\---------------------------

Lucifer pocketed the phone and took in the sleeping form of Beatrice on his couch. Her soft lips were slightly parted. The fluffy dark hair that had escaped from her ponytail surrounded her face like a brown-golden halo. Beatrice moved restlessly in her sleep. Her breathing increased, brows drawn together, as Chloe’s did when she was upset. Lucifer watched in fascination. He had to rip himself from the oddly familiar sight. First things first, just to be sure!

Lucifer grabbed beneath his bar and took the knife he had previously used to stab Cain to prove his theory. Ages ago, when he had thought that he and Cain could _actually be friends_. _What a full-fledged idiot he had been!_

Now, he needed to check on _another_ theory. Lucifer had no idea what the outcome would be. He stepped behind the girl. Then he rolled up his sleeve, placed the knife on his forearm, pressed down and moved it rapidly across his arm. Lucifer grinned and chuckled. _Good!_ His skin remained intact. Well, a very faint red line was visible, but without blood.

Ok, next item on the list. Lucifer considered his options. Whom to call? His first choice would have been Chloe. _His Detective_.... Her beautiful face swam into his memory, how she had smiled at him when he had created the prom night for her. Lucifer felt the familiar pain shoot through him. _No more, no more..._

He decided against calling Chloe. Yes, she would take care of Beatrice, get to the truth immediately – and next, she would set the entire LAPD department onto a chase for _him_ while _he_ chased the Manchinelli gang to save the girl. Chloe would _know_ that he would hunt the scumbags down and punish them - she knew him all too well. Involving her would mean two things: For one, she would do things by the book, and this might be too late for Zoé. And second, it would mean that she would involve the entire LADP. While Lucifer generally trusted most of their colleagues and friends, he did not trust _Cain_ , not one bit! Telling Chloe would mean telling Cain.

A wave of desperation filled Lucifer - that he could no longer share cases with her, rely on her, fight jointly with her, side by side, her light warming him to the core. _No more._ Not as long as Cain had installed himself so clever, a spider in its web, pulling the strings! A spider who had caught his beautiful butterfly... Lucifer grinded his teeth. He glanced at the sleeping Beatrice, made up his mind and dialled.

“Detective Dou... _Daniel_? Yes, it’s me, Lucifer!” The Devil tried charming first, listened and then huffed in annoyance. “ _Yes_ , I’m well aware that it is late! No, this is important... Will you lis..” Daniel had hung up! Lucifer scoffed and stared at his phone in disbelieve.

The Douche had become unpredictable since Charlotte’s recent death. Understandably, Lucifer missed her too. Every day anew. He would never see her again in his existence.... He would never admit it, but he also missed his annoying older brother _who art now back in heaven_. Most likely. He would even pour him a Cosmo if he’d show up....

Lucifer sighed, dialled again and Dan, annoyed, picked up. Again. Before Daniel could utter a word, Lucifer growled into the phone, darker, using his hell-commanding voice for effect _. “Listen, Douche, for ONCE! Your daughter is here, with me! She barely escaped a trafficking ring! Her best friend was caught and we need you here, got it? Now!”_ Lucifer cleared his voice and softened his tone back to “normal Lucifer”.

“Will you be so kind, Daniel, and grace us with your presence to take care of your offspring...?” Lucifer listened, then bellowed “ _YES, ASAP!_ ” Lucifer did not wait to hear the stammering on the other side and hung up.

Beatrice moved restlessly in her sleep, a tear running down her face. Lucifer resumed his panther pacing. How he hated waiting!

\-----------------------------*****************--------------------------

A giant bell rung, repeatedly, to the steady sound of a large swarm of chirping birds taking off. Zoé felt how her body swung back and forth with the sound of the bell, while the birds whirled all around her. Zoé heard how her head hit the giant bell with every beat.... she was part of the bell.... She was the bell...

She forced her eyes open with difficulty and found that they were encrusted in something dark, unpleasant. Her left eye did not open at all. She panicked briefly when she tried to rub them and found that her hands were bound behind her back. She closed her eyes to withdraw into the dark again. The dark was peaceful.

The next time Zoé woke up, she tasted iron. Zoé was so thirsty, her head pounded. It was agony... A metal structure pressed into her right temple. She tried to concentrate. Gradually, the sound of the birds turned into the humming of a van. The giant bell shrunk into the sound of a leather belt buckle that bumped into the van’s wall with each curve and turn. Panic flooded through her veins as the memories came back. Zoé’s breathing increased. She lifted her head from the metal floor and struggled with her balance as the van took a sharp turn. Not only her hands were tied behind her back, also her feet were bound! Zoé felt how the cable binders cut deeper into her wrists as she struggled. Finally, all her memories flooded back, full force. She wished that the darkness took her again.

She had been caught, taken! The warehouse... the package... Trixie’s flight, her only hope... the trail of pearls she’d tried to leave behind. The face of Maze swam into her memory... _Maze, come and safe me!_ _Please, oh God...!_ Then, the ugly face of one of the kidnappers grinned at her... they had discovered her trick....

Zoé winced at the thought of what happened next. She still smelled the bad breath of one of the hairy kidnappers... She must have passed out at some point during the torture. Zoé closed her eyes again, involuntary tears running down her cheeks. She tried to fight off a wave of nausea – and the desperate urge to blow her nose. She exhaled and inhaled through her mouth. Slowly. Systematically.

The sound of the van changed, it slowed down as it reached its destination. Zoé’s heart started to race again in animalistic fear. The torturers would be back soon! Better to remain blissfully unconscious. But her heart - her traitorous heart! It pounded, oh, so damn loud! Zoé heard footsteps. _Damn, girl, you were taught by the Great Dragon. You can do this!_ The van’s back doors were unlocked, harsh metal sliding on metal to give way. She heard their voices, cruel laughter. They had come to take her! She pressed her eyes shut and let herself go completely limb, as Maze had taught her, all her senses on high alert.

\----------------------*********************-------------------------

Lucifer stood tall before the sleeping form of Beatrice. It was obvious that this was not a peaceful slumber. She seemed to relive her recent ordeal – she kicked the sheets and twisted. Lucifer made up his mind. He knelt down before the couch and gently put his hand onto her arm to wake her. She had allowed him to touch her, hadn’t she? So, it did not seem to hurt her. “Beatrice... Beatrice?” he murmured, softly. The girl suddenly shot upright as a bolt, glancing wide-eyed into nothingness, her hands defensively raised in a trained fighting gesture.

Lucifer’s smiled at her fondly. “Maze has taught you well”, he ensured her. Trixie squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment, shook her head and blinked. She breathed heavily, then she glanced up at Lucifer apologetically. “Sorry, fell asleep” Trixie murmured. Heat crept up her cheeks as the memory came back. How could she fall asleep when her friend was in danger! She leaned forward, exhausted, and buried her face in her hands. Surprisingly, her forehead touched soft fabric and warmth. For once, Lucifer had not withdrawn. He had hesitantly opened his arm towards her. She sighed and rested against him. Without the slightest hestitation.

After a brief moment of joint peace, Lucifer spoke. “Listen, Beatrice.” She blinked up at him. His dark gaze was unreadable, ancient. “You asked me if punishment would make you feel better, didn’t you?” She peered up into his age-old dark eyes and gave a short nod. _Had he changed his mind about her punishment?_ Trixie mused.

Her heart started beating faster. The Devil continued. “I phoned your Dad. He will be here in a few minutes to take care of you.” Trixie gasped and drew in her breath to protest. Lucifer held up his index finger to stop her. His eyes bored into hers and touched her soul. Lucifer leaned forward, but not in a menacing way. He simply radiated a commanding power towards her. It left no room for arguing. Trixie closed her mouth and listened.

“Your sentence is to tell your _d.._. Dad what you have done. Everything. Do not hold back. Do not leave out any detail!” Lucifer’s voice was not loud but it shook the floor. The bottles and glasses in his cabinet gave a soft clinking noise like tiny glassy bells. Beatrice gulped, dropped her gaze and leaned forward. “ _Yes, Lucifer, I will..._ ” she whispered.

Lucifer looked down at her bowed head. He had to make sure that she would not sneak out behind him; that she would stay in her fathers’ guard. But he knew what effect his powers could have on humans. Finally, the urge to comfort the girl became nearly unbearable. Even for him.

Lucifer loosely sneaked his arms around Trixie’s shoulders and gave a gentle pressure to indicate that he would allow her to come closer. Again, she snuggled into him without hesitation or resistance, her arms closing around his midriff, her dark-haired head pressed against his chest. Lucifer frowned in disbelief and revelled in the warm, unknown sensation.

“I promise I’ll be good, and do as you say...” she whispered. Lucifer was suddenly hit by a wave of memories of his time in Hell – they flooded, drowned him. He had to use all his inner strength not to withdraw his arms instinctively. He concentrated on the novel warm feeling instead. Slowly, the memories ebbed away.

\--------------------------------------**************--------------------------------------

Zoé forced herself to slow down her breathing like an apnoea diver to save oxygen, to remain limp while she was carried, her lips slightly parted. It was really a hard thing to do, but she had Maze’s voice in her head to keep her company, give her advice. “ _Let them think you’re helpless. Take in everything, your surroundings, and wait for them to reveal their weaknesses and mistakes! Then turn against them, full force! Never hesitate when you fight! If you decide to strike, MEAN it!_ ” Although Zoé knew quite well that a grown-up Mazikeen Smith, The Great Dragon, was a fighter far beyond her juvenile reach, it comforted her to remember her words. She managed even to stay limb when one of the scumbags who had caught her groped at her breasts. She heard him huff in disappointment when his fingers were met by the pollsters of her push-up bra, not her skin; must have been SS, Sleazeball Steve, the one who had chased after Trixie. 

While she was carried, limb as a sack of rice, Zoé took in the turns she sensed. First, she breathed in fresh salty air, then they entered a building and the air became stale and damp. Zoé was carried downstairs, then through a long corridor, one turn to the right, a few more steps straight, then a turn to the left. Again a longer walk, then she heard the squeaking of the iron bands of a large door. Probably steel door by the sound of it.

Zoé could hear that the bulky guy who had hit her in the warehouse was fumbling with the door and that Steve, who carried her, stood behind him with her head dangling down his back. A chance - she risked a glance to take in her surroundings. There was just the empty corridor but she confirmed that her hearing had been accurate regarding their direction. Another quick view: she noticed a broom and bucket with a rag standing opposite the steel door that was now fully thrown open. Should she risk a flight attempt now, before she got locked in a room? – Her body was in an unfavourable position for aimed kicks, her legs dangling down Steve’s front, between the two men. Her aching head still spun with the occasional clanking, swinging bell.

Before Zoé could decide she was carried into the room, her eyes firmly shut again. Zoé was dropped without regard onto something soft and smelly. An old mattress, probably half a meter above the floor. The squeaking told Zoé that the thing, bed, had rusty iron springs. She continued to fake unconsciousness – inwardly thanking Maze for the thorough lessons that kept her heart from leaving her chest, from completely dissolving herself in in the waves of angst.

“She ok, Steve? Still breathing?” the bully by the door asked. At least her faking seemed convincing, Zoé noted. She felt rough hands grip her throat to feel the pulse, then finger her head and press the big lump at her temple where she had been hit, hard. Zoé concentrated on not to wince. “Yeah, she’s all right! Bit roughed up!” Steve nickered like a goat as he quickly fingered over her body, again. Luckily, his hands did not notice her still too rapidly thumping heart.

“Steve hurry up! We’re already late! We need to tell the junior bossman that we only got one! I’m not looking forward to that one! He’ll be displeased that his trap didn’t get both!” the other man bellowed. Zoé heard Steve sigh as he move towards the door. “Do you think he’ll let me ride her first?” he bleaked. “What, as a favour that you let the other one escape?” Bully fired back. The door fell close with a heavy whump. Zoé was thankfully spared the rest of their conversation. She felt her blood rush in her ears, heart thumping like mad.

Zoé remained limb to sense her surroundings. _Was she alone? Was it dark? Where was she?_ After a few seconds, when her pulse came slowly down, she heard a faint breathing. _Was it an animal or a human?_ Zoé risked to lift one eyelid and peer through her long black lashes. The room was sparsely lit. Zoé could not make out the source of the faint breathing in her direct surroundings. The breathing moved closer and closer _. It sounded_...

 _“M-Mary, is she alive...?”_ The stage whisper of a little boy, who had not yet mastered the art of whispering. “I think she’s just unconscious, Pauli,” a hesitant female voice, probably of Zoé’s own age, answered. “...better for her!” Mary added, bitter.

As if to confirm Mary’s last remark, Zoé heard another female voice moan in pain from somewhere deeper in the room. From the other corner back in the room, she heard someone get up and move over to the source of moaning. “Valerie’s broken finger seems to be inflamed by now, it’s all red and swollen where the bone sticks out”, Zoé heard an older girl’s voice. “I wish I had my medical kit to set the bone straight, disinfect and bandage the wound,” the second girl sighed. She sounded fatalistic, resigned.

“I will pray for her, Emilia...” Mary’s voice quivered. Emilia snorted in clear disagreement. “ _Yeah_ , fine, you do that, again!” Emilia growled sarcastically under her breath. “And a fat lot of good that will do! But if it makes you feel better, why not! But we need real-world medical help her!” For a few moments, no one spoke, only the repeated trembling moans and heavy breathing of the girl named Valerie were audible.

Zoé decided to stop fake unconsciousness. She was now sure that there were only other kids in the room, no, _prison, actually_. Time to learn more. Zoé still heard Maze’s instructions in her head, soothing her feeling of exposure and helplessness, just a bit.

Suddenly, before she could open her eyes, she felt soft little fingers brushing away some of her locks that had escaped her ponytail. “ _Dear God, please let her wake up..._ ” Zoé heard the little boy, Paul, stage whisper again – so close to her ear that his breath tickled.

 _Fine, I can do that, why not_... Zoé allowed her eyelids to flicker open, one by one. The sight was unreal: Before her sat a little angel, a cherub, of otherworldly beauty. The boy’s dark curls were framed by the sparse light from behind, blessing him with a dark-golden halo. Paul surveyed her with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, framed by ridiculously long eye lashes. His pink lips were half-parted in curiosity. His little face broke into a radiant smile when Zoé opened her eyes in response to his prayers.

“ _Mary, Mary, she’s alive!_ _See, I prayed and God brought her back!_ ” he announced proudly, genuine joy radiating from him, lighting their prison cell. Zoé did not heave the heart to tell him otherwise.

Instead, Zoé slowly pulled herself upright on the smelly old mattress and investigated her head with her fingers as Maze had taught her. One lump, dried blood here and there, a swollen temple and bruised left eye. Wounds, but no serious damage, she diagnosed. Zoé took in her surroundings. The room was maybe two meters wide and four to five meters long with dirty concrete walls, a concrete floor and the steel door. One naked bulb hung from the ceiling and gave a sparse yellowish light. Zoé counted six beds, two single beds left and right from the door (she had been dumped on the left one) and two stock beds behind the first two, deeper down in the room. At the other end of the room she saw spanned dirty sheets that hid something.

Mary sat opposite to her on the right bed. She had her hands folded, eyes closed and her lips moved silently. She wore a neat but boring skirt and blouse, clearly a school uniform, as did the little boy Paul. _Amish people_. _Hard to guess their age, but perhaps Mary’s my age, Paul 4 or 5 years old_.

On the lower stock bed to the right side lay a thin girl with dirty blonde hair and high cheek bones, rolling vigorously but mechanically from side to side with her head like a clockwork, as if she said “no”, over and over. She seemed really passed out of reality, moaning and whimpering, rhythmically, each time her head fell to the right side. Zoé guessed that Valerie was just a year or two older than she was. On the injured girls’ bed sat Emilia and cooled Valerie’s forehead with a wet cloth. She was the oldest girl in the room, perhaps about 16 or 17 years old. Emilia stared helplessly down on the other girl, desperation written all over her face. She glanced up as Zoé approached her, on still-shaky legs. “You’re awake,” Emilia stated, “that’s good and bad!”

“...w.. what do you mean...?” Zoé asked, trying to swallow, but her mouth was so dry. She slowly took in everything. The room. Her abduction. The package delivery gone wrong, Trixie’s flight. The stinky room. The presence of the other girls. _What the hell had she herself gotten into? Had the criminals who caught her been drug dealers and thought that she interfered in their territory? Should she jump up, hammer at the door and demand to speak to the men who mishandled and abducted her? Perhaps it was all a misunderstanding...?_

Emilia snorted in response to her stammered question and started to list in a bored tone, “ _Good for you_ that you’re awake, because it means you are still alive! _Bad for you_ because you are stuck here, where we all are! “Fresh meat” they call us! (Zoé observed how Mary winced out of the corner of her eyes and she felt struck herself.) “ _Good_ _for you_ because we can brief you now, before they come and get you. How to survive and.... minimize the pain that’ll come.” Emilia sighed and added, pragmatic “...and _bad_ _for us_ because we may have to share our food now by 5 instead of by 4 if they don’t stock us up soon!” Emilia gave a humourless laugh.

“What is your name...?” the little cherub boy addressed her, his large blue eyes blinking up at her, earnest. They seemed almost deep purple in the dim light. “I’m Zoé Vanderbilt...” she tried to give Paul a little smile. It turned out more of a grimace, as a sharp pain short through her temple.

Then Zoé glanced around and addressed the entire room. “I do not really understand. What is this place? Why am I... Why are you all locked up here...?” _Had the others tried to deliver drugs as well? Were they all caught in some criminal network ...? It could only be a misunderstanding, or - not...?_ A foreshadowing chill started running down Zoé’s spine.

The others remained silent and just stared back at her. Helplessly. Something dark and evil seemed to unfurl in the damp, stinking room, spreading its ugly wings.

Mary closed her eyes and started to rock back and forth in prayer again, eyes closed, lips moving feverishly. Emilia sighed, shrug her shoulders and looked at Zoé. The older girl hesitated for a moment, hands hanging helplessly in mid-air. Then she shook her curly brown hair just a tiny bit, made up her mind and beckoned towards Zoé to come closer. When Zoe was standing beside her and the feverish Valerie, Emilia gently withdrew the sheets that covered Valerie’s body. Her ripped, torn skirt was blood-stained where her tights met. Emilia glanced up at her, willing her to understand. Zoé swayed and took in a shuddering breath. Emilia took Valerie’s right hand with the shattered little finger and lifted it carefully. Valerie whimpered even at the gentle touch but she seemed to trust Emilia completely.

“Leave your name, your identity, your pride and your hope behind.... We are no more here than animals. For them. To be owned. Resisting gives you.... _this_ ” She gestured at Valerie, then gently pulled the dirty sheets back over the shivering girl. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. While she turned around to resume cooling Valerie’s forehead, offering the only available help - human compassion- , she murmured “ _Welcome to the first circle of Hell..._ ” But Zoé had heard her.

\-----------------------

Suddenly, the door clanked and moved. They had not heard steps approaching, an information that Zoé filed away about the door thickness. As it swung open, a familiar figure stood in the doorframe!

Zoé’s first impulse was to shout “ _Julién_!” jump up, and fling herself at him. Her Insta and discord server friend was here! But she rather run on her second impulse, got slowly up and just gaped at him cautiously. _Something was so damn wrong here – the raped, injured Valerie, the desperate Mary, the fatalistic Emilia..._ and why did they even incarcerate a tiny boy? There was more behind it than just a misunderstanding for sure!

Julién obviously enjoyed himself very much. He just looked slightly older than in all the pictures he had sent her of himself. He grinned at her smugly, as if waiting for the exclamation that Zoé had managed to suppress. Why had she never noted that cruel passage around his mouth? He had brought two bulky guys with him. They flanked his back left and right as he stepped in. _Too scared of a handful injured mishandled girls to come alone_ , Zoé took her second mind note. Julién needs backup.... _Maze, oh Maze, come and find me, us, we need you...._

“What, no proper greetings, Zoé?” Julien grinned from ear to ear. “Is that how you treat an old friend?” He chuckled, amused by his own joke. His goonies guffawed. “Ah, I see, _clever_! You already worked out that the package delivery story was just my bait to catch me some girls! _Ooooh, clever, clever little Zoé!_ Pity your friend escaped. Steve got _properly punished_ for that.” Strangely enough, Julién’s eyes seemed to sparkle with delight. Even his cheeks seemed flushed. “What was her name again? _Trixie?_ ”

Everything fell into place, the dam broke and the floodwaters hit her. All of this was _his_ doing, Julién’s! Obviously, he was in charge of all of this abomination, of this hellish place! Hot boiling anger licked up her insides and burst over.

“Her name is Beatrice Decker, and her mother is a cop. A homicide detective!” Zoé shot back. “And I’m friends with Mazikeen Smith. The famous bounty hunter! She’ll come looking for me, I’m sure of it!” The moment she had given that away she knew it as a mistake. _Never brag with your trump cards,_ _dears,_ Maze had taught the girls. _Just keep collecting them until you can strike full force and squash ‘em!_

Julién hesitated for the fraction of a second. Zoé filed the hesitation away. “I have heard of her...“ he murmured, then straightened up. “But never mind!” He felt obviously challenged. “My Dad and me, we do have strong protection, in high places! Angelo Manchinelli’s best buddies with the _Sinnerman_... ever heard of HIM?” Julién short back triumphantly. “The LAPD, pahhh!” He spat to the floor to make his point clear. “They’re in THE SINNERMAN’s pocket!” (Zoé could swear he’d pronounced the name in capital letters.) “Just find the right policemen or detectives to corrupt, do them a favour, have them in your dept, offer them free fucks or whatever desires they’ve got simmering... and they’ll be all ours, _TO USE AS WE SEE FIT!_ ” He shouted the last words and Zoé flopped back onto the bed, mouth agape.

Julién chuckled and revelled in Zoé’s horror-struck face, his cruel left-sided grin now firmly back in place. The dark Evil in the room expanded, sucking out the oxygen. Zoé heard her own laborious breathing. Her head was pounding viciously, again. “You’ll learn to serve your masters properly!” Julién hissed maliciously, bending over Zoé and invading her personal space, his handsome face twisted with rage. “We’ll get you, soon! Haven’t decided yet who’ll have the pleasure! Maybe I take you myself!” Julién bared his teeth and stared down on her again. He reminded her on a grinning shark. With an oddly lopsided set of teeth. The sharp intake of breath of Mary and Emilia told Zoé that Julién’s attention was something to be avoided.

“And if I’m in a VERY good mood, I may offer you a deal: Payments to your mom’s bank account. That is what you want, isn’t it? See, you can _earn_ that if you cooperate. But IF and only IF your behaviour is... _pleasing_!” he chuckled at his own perceived brilliance, turned and left.

While one of his cronies followed him swiftly, the less bulky one cast a glance towards the still rhythmically moving Valerie and hesitated. Emilia cached his eyes and jumped onto the tiny beam of empathy. “We urgently need medical equipment to clean her wounds and get her fever down, most of all Antibiotics. Ciprofloxacin would be best, she’s allergic to Amoxicillin. And painkillers if possible. She may otherwise not...” Emilia hesitated, her eyes dashing towards Paul who had withdrawn into the back of the room, staring. “...not recover”, she finished.

“Mmmh”, the south-European looking guard with a wild black beard grunted. “Yeah, I see.” Then he started to grin. “But you know that at this level of _The Paradise_ , the delivery of favours comes at a _price_!” he started to grin, as if his own words and their rhyme sunk in slowly. He made a move as if to come closer. Emilia got up. “Not here!” she said, firmly. “You’ll get what you want, and more. But ONLY if I get what we need for her! Antibiotics and Painkillers before, the other stuff for her wounds... later! - _Deal?_ ” Zoé saw how Emilia’s jaw tensed. Then she added, before the guard could start to wager, “what’s your name, cutie?” “Ah, I’m...Ramirez”, Blackbeard grunted back. He did not have the fastest of minds, Zoé thought.

Emilia had obviously come to the same conclusion. “Come on, Ramirez, you will not regret it! I’m good, you see...” Emilia’s voice was suddenly soft like a summer breeze, she swayed in her hips and moved forward slowly. Zoé’s eyes fell onto Mary as Emilia passed her, heading towards the dim-witted guard at the door who was still staring at the lively, resolute girl with the curly hair.

“Deal!”, Ramirez finally grunted, grinning stupidly. Mary stared at the older girl, full of contempt and – was it horror? Zoé thought that her own her face might look not so different, and yet... When Emilia nearly reached the door, Zoé touched the wet cloth that was still tightly clenched in Emilia’s right fist, the knuckles white with force. Zoé gulped and made up her mind.

“Give me that, Emilia”, she whispered. “I’ll take care of her” – she waved in Valerie’s direction, “...until you return.” A silent desperate look of _Shared Hell_ passed between the girls. Emilia forced her fingers to open and the cloth slid into Zoé’s hand, as Ramirez grabbed the girls’ wrist and pulled her through the door. Emilia maintained her sexy body pose with her back to Ramirez, but her white face and wide eyes locked with Zoé’s, until the door closed with an ugly, final “whump”.

There was a brief moment of silence. “ _How could she!_ ” Mary hissed, “...she behaves like a whore! Willingly!” Mary’s blue eyes dashed wildly around in horror, wide open. “She did not even _fight_ for her honour...! _Oh God, why are we here, why do you do this to us...?_ ” She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders started to shake, little whimpers escaping her, while she rocked back and forth. The little boy, Paul, sneaked up to her and huddled against his sister, offering and receiving comfort from the contact. “Mary, don’t cry...” he whispered helplessly, trying to wipe his sisters’ tears away with his short fingers. Soon, his shining dark-blue eyes were also overflowing in empathy, tears smearing his cheeks. But he did not utter a single sound. He just stared at his crumbling sister, wide-eyed.

Zoé looked at the pair. _The first circle of hell_ , Emilia had termed it _. Seems pretty accurate._ Zoé sighed and moved to sit beside Valerie. Her own head was still pounding, but Valerie’s misery was greater. “Paul, Mary?” They did not respond, but the sniffling stopped, and Paul looked at her with huge shining eyes. “Is there another cloth or towel? Can you help me clean her? Do we have something to drink here...? My head is bursting...” The diversion succeeded. The first sips Zoé took from the dirty water glass was like plunging into a refreshing oasis. She clenched her jaw. “Here, take Valerie’s hand and hold it off, so that she does not bump into something or hurt herself even more.” After a bit of hesitating Mary knelt in front of the bed and did as shew as asked. “And Paul, can you bring us a bowl of water, perhaps? Do we have something...?” Pauls face lit up. “Yes, we have! I’ll bring it! Can you make her better, Zoé?” Zoé tried to smile her typical warm smile at the boy. “I try my best!” It seemed to help. Paul delivered a half-broken bucket full of cold, but clear water and smiled back at her.

Now, Mary came slowly around. “Paul, please go and lay down on your bed, and play with Harry Potter, ok?” Zoé glanced at Mary questioningly. “HP is his beloved Teddy bear”, Mary explained, while Paul shuffled away obediently. They heard Pauli stage-whisper to his Teddy as he lay down, assuring his Harry Potter that everything would be fine... it squeezed Zoé’s heart.

“Ok, let’s see what we can do...” Zoé braced herself and threw back the sheets that covered Valerie’s body. She raised a questioning eyebrow at Mary who came back to life, pale-faced. Mary nodded, she knew what to do.

“Valerie? Val – its me, Mary. Emilia has gone to... get you some medicine. To ease your pain, and make you... feel better.” Mary’s voice quivered. She cleared her throat. “We will try to clean you up a bit, ok? It’s just me and a new girl here, Zoé. No men. Do you hear me, Val? _No men, ok?_ ” Valerie’s eyes opened slowly, hooded with pain. Their cinnamon-brown colour was in stark contrast to her honey-blonde hair and pale face. “ _Promise...?_ ” she whispered, lips trembling. Her voice was strangely melodious. “ _Yes, promise._..” Zoé breathed. Mary gently touched Valerie’s cheek in response, brushing a hair lock behind her ear.

They cleared the bowl of water three times until they had finished their work. Suddenly the door creaked open just a bit and Emilia was pushed back in, several packages pressed tightly to her chest. The door closed after her with a whump. Emilia looked nauseous, her face colour greenish, here movements were robotic. She dumped the packages onto the first free bed, dashed to the back of the room and disappeared behind the sheets. Over the next minutes, only her retching and vomiting broke the silence. The occasional toilet flushing informed Zoé that they even _had_ such a thing as a toilet in their prison.

Finally, Paul got up and scratched the sheets gently with his short fingers. “Emilia... _Emily?”_ he stage-whispered. “Are you sick...? Can we help...?” Heavy breathing, then a pause. “You can say I’m sick, quite fitting,” A sigh, more heavy breathing. “But I’ll be ok soon.” Finally, Emilia emerged, slightly shaking and still white-faced.

“At least we have the medication and equipment now that we need for Val.....” She seemed to draw courage from this. She swayed slightly, sat down on Valerie’s bed, leaned her head against the metal bedpost and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, just the first tiny spark of life was back. Emilia shook her head to clear it, sorted through the pills, disinfection solution and the bandages, and set to work. Her jaw was grimly set. Zoé assisted her with grim determination, as if both girls had done nothing else in the past.

\--------------------***************----------------------

Maze silently closed the door of her sports car and surveyed her dark surroundings. She had reached Long Beach in no time and parked a few streets away to disguise her presence. An exceptional car like the red Tesla roadster prototype drew too much attention for a sting operation. Maze flexed her fingers and grinned in anticipation, knuckles snapping with an explosive, sickening sound.

Her dark elegant frame was hardly discernible, a dark blur sliding against the shadows, dashing towards the building she was sure to be the trafficking ring’s hiding den. The old-fashioned large brick building overlooked the harbour. It oozed the morbid charm of a former century in its _Art Nouveau_ related appearance and its state of decay, decorated with ornaments and statues, windows barred with rusty ornamental bars with arrowheads and flowers.

The building was a bit retreated from the main road, which approached the container-loaded storage area of the harbour, fenced off by rusty old spearhead bars. In the small front garden, old Liriodendron and palm trees, almost as tall as the building, covered the front windows. They barred the sight inside, on top of the drawn curtains. Maze felt a strong pang of familiarity as she discerned gargoyles, mermaids and fauns decorating the front façade. She sighed in joy. _Coming home to torture the guilty!_ _Real bodies, real pain!_ _Where, oh, where to start...?_ In the backyard, of course!

The rusty six-foot fence with the arrowheads held no challenge for Maze, she jumped over it in one fluent movement. Nor did the huge black-furred dog that jumped up and went from dozing in the shadows into action in just one second, racing towards her. It barked furiously two times, but Maze pulled herself up to her full height. Her human form slid away. A deep, vibrant resonating growl emanated from her, grim, superior, otherworldly, _commanding_.

Immediately, the huge German shepherd dog whined apologetically, dropped down on its belly and approached her, whining and swishing its tail, as it acknowledged its new boss. Maze kneeled down briefly and ruffled its neck fur. “Good lady”, she growled, the subsonic waves emanating from her soothing the dog, attracting it to do her will like moths to the light. “Now. Be a good dog, go and hunt mice or rabbits. Or go fetch _something_...” The shepherd dog smiled a canine smile, gave a consenting yip and dashed away.

In that moment, a long black Buick approached the morbid building and Maze slid into the shadows, observing. A fat man got off the car, squeezing himself laboriously out of the back seat. He stuck his head back in, instructed the driver in harsh tones and the car rolled off. Fat man straightened his coat and pulled out a handkerchief to dry his sweating forehead. His tiny eyes dashed around to make sure that no one had followed him. His bulging lips were pressed together in a grim smile.

The demons’ eyes scanned him out of the shadow of the nearest palm tree. _His stench was lovely, guilt emanating from his every pore and wafting around him like a perfume haze!_ Maze found that the stench of _felt guilt_ was perfectly mixed with that of _non-felt guilt_ , which predestined him for a very special creative section of hell. _How Lovely!_

Fat man might be in his late forties, Maze guessed; saturated, the aura of his own perceived importance and might wafting all around him. He twirled his extravagant long moustache as he waddled up to the front door. It opened before he even knocked. A muscly, not very intelligent looking bouncer with curly blonde hair stuck his head out, peering around. The fat man startled, frozen to the spot. The bouncer looked like a Viking.

The German shepherd dog used exactly _that_ moment to reappear, placing a dead, half-rotten seagull at the bouncers’ feet. The viking gazed down stupidly. “ _F...Freya?_ W..Why did you bark...? What the fuck...?” he addressed the dog who looked up at him, expecting praise for her delivery, waggling her tail hopefully. The bouncers’ gaze flickered back and forth between the dog and the approaching client, repeatedly, his brain obviously already overloaded.

“Take that rotten carrion away, _hellhound_!” he barked and kicked the dog who flew away two feet. Freya whimpered, tucked her tail between her legs and drew backwards into the shadows, towards her new friend. Who fused even more into the palm trees’ shadows. The bouncer grunted in satisfaction and turned towards the visitor.

“Sorry, Mr. Koch, Sir!” he grunted. “Please come in, we have all sorts of fresh sweeties waiting for you...” The man named Koch pumped himself up to cover his earlier reaction. “I really hope so! Manchinelli owes me big time, after I pushed the latest law in congress that favours his gun business branch!” he squealed back with a surprisingly high-pitched voice and waddled forward. The old wooden front door fell close with a whump behind the pair of them. Maze grinned her toothy predator grin in the shadows, as she petted Freya, who glanced up at her adoringly. The Koch guy was another wonderful candidate on her torturers’ list!

\----------------------------

After a brief search of the perimeter, Maze found the entrance to the underworld in the backyard. She could clearly smell Zoé and the men who had taken her. They had entered into the building through that steel door she was facing now. Maze listened, supernatural senses sharpened. No one near. She tried the door handle. Shit, it was locked. Or course it was. Maze sighed. _Where was the Devil when one Demon needed him?_

Maze did not possess Lucifer’s abilities to open everything up by just touching it (or by smiling and charming it). Blasting the door out if its hinges with an aimed kick was off the table, too, by far too noisy. Maze considered briefly to wait for Lucifer, or to climb up to get in through a window. However, she would have to rip off one of the metal bar things before she could make it in, and thereby she would forego her advantage of remaining hidden. She wanted to observe and create an inner map before delivering the blow.

 _Ok, alternative plan!_ Maze growled a bit to instruct Freya who looked up at her expectantly. The dog was smart. They mostly were, at least the ones who had not been reduced to a handbag rat size for decoration! Freya understood.

The dog sat down on her hindquarters and started to bark aggressively, as if pointing out an intruder. She even had the nerve to pierce it with some wolf-like howls that Maze could clearly decipher as irony. “ _Oh, where are you, my lover, I’m all alone, waiting for you, waiting for youuhouu..._ ”, was what the dog sang to the sky. Maze easily recognized it as the latest hit in the dog-wolf vocal-song universe. She chuckled and when Freya let out the next barking cascade, Maze responded. “ _I’ll come for you, my love, when the next moon is full! When the tides of fertility are rising, we will dance our joy of life, under the full moooon...._ ”, Maze howled back, modifying the lines of the lastest wolf hit slightly. Freya was so happy for it that she gave an appreciative yip in between, chased her own tail for one round, and then doubled over in her efforts to get the bouncers out, barking like mad.

It took effect soon. The steel door creaked open and Steve the slimeball stuck his head out of the door, his greasy hair hanging into his eyes as he peered around. There was their guardian dog in front of him, barking like a hellhound. Steve stared down on it with an unintelligent expression, mouth-hanging agape. _What the fuck...?_ Freya barked at him, teeth bared, growling - as if _Steve_ was the intruder! _What the bloody hell...?_

Maze inhaled. A grin spread across her features as she recognized the smell! One of the men who had trapped her lovely girls! The one who had chased Trix! Her slender shadow glided through the night. The grinning demon rose behind the man, half face a stunning beauty, half face a rotting corpse. Maze enjoying the building anticipation like a lover did a sweet touch.

“ _Hell-O, slimeball._..” Maze purred, danger vibrating like spider webs from her. Steve wiped around, stupid expression still plastered across his face. His eyes widened in horror as they fell upon the demon. His mouth opened like a gaping fish and he inhaled to scream. Before a sound could escape, Maze’s knee went up full force and hit him in the groin, effectively ending the ancestral line of Steve the sleazeball once and forever. Instead of a scream just a tiny burp escaped him as he bent forward. Maze rained her blows fast down upon him, deliberately and precise, like a surgeon placed his scalpel in a crucial surgery, to achieve maximum pain impact. _Liver, kneecaps, Adams’ apple, nasal bone_ (it gave the nice expected crunch as it broke) and finally _temporal bone_. Steve the slimeball went down like a felled tree, but less noisy. Freya watched, head cocked to one side. She waggled her tail slowly in acknowledgement and grinned her canine grin at Maze.

Maze tied the criminal up, masterfully avoiding being stained by his bloody dripping nose, and secured a gag with quick efficient moves, one that let him breeze but prevented him from being loud. She looked down at her handiwork and sighed in joy. A tied-up pleasure, to be devoured and tortured _after_ her girl Zoé was rescued. If time allowed and Lucifer or his detective did not get in the way! Maze gave her newfound canine friend a thumps-up, seasoned with a tiny appreciative growl. Then she slipped inside, closing the door without sound.

Freya settled down on her hindquarters and prepared to watch over the stirring, moaning bundle tied to the hydrant, formerly known as Steve the Sleazeball. The shepherd dog smiled inwardly, her tongue lolling out while she kept watch. Alas, the moaning bundle was boring. And... the dog sniffed at him... _stinky pants_. Freya wrinkled her sensitive nose and took to a safe distance. She kept one eye on her charge but her other half dreamt – just a bit. Of running over the hills. Towards her future wolf lover, free of duties. Maze had given the slave a vision and the dog knew now _exactly_ where her loyalties lay.

\------------------------*****************----------------------------

Lucifer was vibrating with energy and visible impatience. He had called in another favour: The young grouchy lad had just emerged 15 minutes before, slouching into the penthouse with a trolley trailing behind him and setting up his laptop and, it seemed, half of the contents of a well-stocked computer shop. He immediately went to work, to set up Lucifers’ darknet offer for a specific young girl. And to haul in information titbits of all sorts. The lad, who had identified himself as Kylo-The-Renegade (“... _what...?? Tha’s my gamer name, ain’t it?! KyloRen for short! It’s well respected, ya’know..!!”_ when Trixie had snorted at him), kept sneaking petrified glances towards the tall, dark, brooding Devil who paced back and forth in front of the couch. Kylo’s eyes darted back and forth between his computer screens and Lucifer, and he gulped every now and then as the Devil gave him a sharp demanding glance.

Even Trixie could sense that Lucifer emanated a strange, otherworldly power she had not felt around him ever before. _Devil_ , she told herself. _Guardian Devil..._ the thought came unwanted to her mind. But it was fitting, strangely worrying and comforting at once. She drew the blanket tighter around herself, which Lucifer had thrown over her when she slept. She still felt so miserable and bad for everything, for their stupidity with the fake drug delivery....

Strangely, Lucifer’s “sentence”, her penance to tell her dad everything, and later her mum, had given her a sort of finality, dedication, and even peace. Trixie was definitely not looking forward to her confession! Afterwards, her parents would know how stupid she’d been. That she was not worth their great expectations and opinion of her, that she had lied to mum about staying with Zoé. That she had been determined to deliver _even drugs_! Just for money! _How was she better than then your average criminal? Did they not all have their excuses?_ Trixie sighed and steeled herself. Slowly, acceptance sprouted and took growth. She would take on the consequences. _Would they still love her when they knew what she had done?_ Her heart was beating fast and strong, knocking a strange stumbling beat on her ribcage from inside.

Occasionally, Kylo’s eyes dashed from the Devil to Beatrice, as if he wanted to pose a question. Kylo swallowed and kept his mouth shut, fingers flying across the keys. If this was all he had to do, to wipe his slate clean with one _Lucifer Morningstar_ and the favour he’d been given, getting him out of trouble for a hack gone wrong, he could call himself a lucky bastard! Kylo had no idea if Lucifer was indeed the Devil he claimed to be, but the man could be really damn _scary_ if he wanted to be... Kylo swore that he had seen Lucifer’s eyes sparkle with dark red, otherworldly fire when they had made their deal. The freak!

Did Morningstar really want to buy a girl from a human trafficking ring...? _That would be something evil, something the Devil would do, right...?_ The aura of power that emanated from Lucifer was almost palpable, the room seemed to vibrate with it. Cold sweat formed on Kylo’s forehead. _Was he selling his soul to the Devil by helping him do evil...?_ On the other hand, the behaviour the tall, dark Club owner, Devil, whatever, towards the underage girl on his couch was completely _not_ suggesting that Lucifer Morningstar was into little girls, and neither did his well-known playboy reputation. _A beautiful woman or three every night...they practically threw themselves at him... why did that not happen to him?_ Kylo sighed. Asking too many questions was what had brought him into this special shit in the first place, into the devils playground, literally! Better to keep ones’ head low. Kylo focused on the monitor, adsorbed in his breaking into the security systems of the Manchinelli gang’s communication.... _HAH! YESSSS!_ Kylo-The-Renegade did a short fist –up, grinned happily and filed away the info that he had uncovered.

\-----------------------------

Maze entered the labyrinth of corridors in the building. Darkness held no problem for her. Her demon eyes adjusted to the dim light in the fraction of a second as if she wore night vision gear. She sniffed. The stench of the kidnappers was overwhelming, hard to discern the traces of Zoé. There were also multiple smells of fear, of despair, of... forced sex, violence, and cruelty. As much as Maze felt at home with all smells accompanying torture, she hesitated. _Why did this smell and feel so wrong? Strange!_

Maze had taken the corridor to the right, away from the room where Zoé was locked. Suddenly she heard footsteps. She scanned her surroundings and darted behind a metal cupboard at the end of the corridor and sharpened her hearing. Not one moment too late! The corridor suddenly flamed in light. Two bulky goons strode towards her place. “...no, Barnabas, I’d say we take that blonde girl that was caught three days ago, not Asian girl!” a blonde-curly Nordic-looking guy with a squared face said. Ulf had a scar in his left corner of the mouth which made him look as if he grinned permanently, which had earned him the nickname _Grinulf_. The other dark-skinned dude obviously disagreed. His voice became clearer as they came closer. “...likes them tiny and fragile and _virgin_ , dumbass!” dark dude responded, “Which means we cannot take Blondie, what was her name? The junior bossman broke her already, she’s ruined!” “Yeah, I know, right?” Grinulf responded, sighing. “That kid is really costly with the sinnerman’s goods! But if we insert her the dove egg sans shell with the red yolk, before we prepare her for him, Koch’ll think that she’s virgin! Easy!” “No, listen...”

They approached Maze’s hiding place, bickering back and forth about which girl to take. Fortunately, Maze did not have to take them out and give away her advantage - the goons were completely focused on the steel door diagonal opposite of her hiding place. They did not notice the demon lurking in the shadow. Maze could _smell_ their arousal. She filed it away in her inner “torture” folder, where she categorized whom to torture later for what, and with what... Each demon had this kind of inner folder-and-map system, like a taxi driver had a map and all the shortcuts in his head. And Maze’s was the most extended, most systematic.

The keys klicked and the steel door opened. Maze observed how both goons straightened up, puffing out their breasts, obviously enjoying their power. “Time for a Disney play, girls, come on! Who’s gonna be our sleeping beauty tonight...?” Grinulf grinned like a lunatic into the room. Maze could hear frightened gasps on the other side. She counted four voices, maybe a fifth. “You! Cho Chang! Come here!” Barnabas barked. He plunged forward and a girl emerged, dragged by her wrists out of the room. “No! Please, no! Please, let me go! And my name is Anya...” The blonde Viking hit her square in the face. “You look like that Harry Potter girl to me, all Asians look the same anyway...!” he spat.

Maze guessed that the girl could not be older than 12 or 13. She had obviously now spent all of the little bit of courage that she had gathered up. “Please! Let me go! I want... to go home... to... _Mummy_...” her plea faded into a whimper while Barnabas shut the door and dragged her behind him. The door fell shut with the finality thud that a reinforced steel would give, cutting out the wailing desperate voice of “ _Anya, Anya! No! Leave her, she’s my sister...!_ ” on the other side.

Grinulf bent down and threw the feebly stirring, weeping girl over his shoulder, squeezing her fragile ankles in a steel grip. The men strode away with their charge, talking about the establishments’ customers and their perverse likings as if the crying girl was just a sack of cement. None of them noticed the gliding shadow that followed them in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I risk loosing you guys with this chapter where I introduced a lot of side characters in "The Paradise", the den of the criminal gang who abducted Trixie's best friend, besides writing in our heroes. Please let me know if that worked for you, I'd like to know....
> 
> The next chapter will be Lucifer-and-Maze centric, action packed and have an alternative Lucifer (wing and devil face) reveal, leading to Chloe learning the truth in chapter 7. Cain/Pierce is the clear villain in my story. I think we can agree on that, can't we?

**Author's Note:**

> I am new to writing fanfiction despite my old age. (Never to late to learn somethingnew, right, RIGHT...?) I only recently discovered how many awesome Lucifer fanficton writers are there who make my jaw drop every so often, who make me laugh, smile or cry when I read their fantastic stories.  
> I have no idea if gifting someting own is appropriate for a beginner. But I really want to say "thank you" to Wollfgang who is such a skilled writer, so kind in her interaction with others, and who comes up with vivid story pictures of our beloved characters with grace and ease(?). Thank you, Wollfgang, for writing all of your ficlets and fully-fledged stories - I love reading every line!


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